Forever Knight: Series 4, Episode 1
by history101
Summary: A post series 3. Instead of killing his beloved son, LaCroix takes Nick to London, England, to convalesce, where they find a very unusual entity - or rather, it finds them. NOT slash. I don't own any rights to Forever Knight!
1. PROLOGUE

A.N. This came about when I finished re-watching the whole show for the hundredth time, and I just thought 'Hey, why don't I write my own series 4?' I'd put off doing so before because I didn't want to tarnish a show that I honestly love to pieces, but the ending left a lot to be desired. It was, of course, very well acted and heart-breaking, but I think there was so much more that could've been done with the two characters.

I honestly think Nick could cope with the loss of doc Lambert, rather than just giving up and asking LaCroix to kill him, and I wanted to see the father / son thing between them continue, so that will be one of my main focus points of this story.

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**PROLOGUE**

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Nicolas de Brabant was once again sat slumped again the sofa on the floor in a darkened room with a half empty wine bottle clutched in his hand, another one empty at his feet. The only light came from the half dozen candles dripping wax from their candlesticks placed on tables and the surface of the grand piano. With the thick red curtains drawn against the cold winter's night not even the moonlight was granted entry into the shadows.

Every second of every minute of each night and day he wasted his thoughts were stuck constantly in the past, to one specific night; the night he has asked his closest friend, master and father to take his life. He had been awaiting the pain of death, and when the blackness came he welcomed it, but after a while, the shadows had begun to recede and light slowly permeated his senses; surely this was not death. Was it? No, he had awoken; he hadn't been killed like he'd wanted.

He'd awoken just over a month ago in a warm bed, draped in silk sheets in another dark room. Having been expecting hell, to be tormented for all eternity, or at least to see Natalie's smile one last time it had come as something of a shock to see a pristine white ceiling above him; he also sensed a strong, familiar and reassuring presence beside him; a presence he had shunned for so long, but which he now sought.

"LaCroix?" he'd spoke quietly, for the first time in weeks. "Ce qui est…" he'd began to ask but LaCroix spoke over him from the shadows.

"Rest, Nicholas, there is nothing to fear, all is well," he heard the older vampire tell him, Nick wasn't sure in which language though, but suddenly he found it very easy to listen to it.

A subsequent month of mourning and self-imposed isolation had followed, he'd drank far too much blood-whiskey - which had been mostly whiskey, and spent most of his time in a drunken stupor or sleeping of said drunken stupor. He'd not painted once or even touched the piano he'd found in the study of the new place in which he'd awoken in, he'd not even gone outside once. LaCroix had not been best pleased, he knew.

The old General would be even less pleased to discover that Nick had decided to leave the building and walk out into the night, for the first time in over a month...without telling him…

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A.N. I know this is short, but it is just the prologue. Please let me know if there's any interest out there!


	2. Into the Fray

**CHAPTER 1: Into the Fray.**

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Lucien LaCroix was not amused. His son had been practically inhaling copious amounts of blood - alcohol at a, frankly, alarming rate, but it was better than the first week in which Nick had been sleeping; the 2,000 year old General knew that all too well. Nicholas had refused to wake; after giving him a good knock over the head back in Canada (with enough force to have killed a mortal most brutally), LaCroix had quickly sorted their affairs out, buried the pathologist's body - saying an old prayer over her remains, and fled with his son to England. But try as he might, his son would not wake; he suspected that it was because the old crusader simply did not want to.

Just as guilt could lead a vampire down a curious road, so too could thoughts of utter defeat; and, completely defeated, Nicholas refused to return to the land of the living. And yet he had been living. To keep it that way, LaCroix had fed Nicholas himself every night with his own blood, giving probably more than he should have, but his son refused to expend effort on anything else.

It had taken days for Nicholas to finally open his eyes and only then to mumble a few words in French, and then to sleep again. It had been less than encouraging to say the least. But then, a day later LaCroix had returned just before dawn to find his son catatonic in the sitting room from blood whiskey, very expensive, high quality, blood whiskey, he added…and again the next night…and again the night after that, and it was the same for the whole month. It had begun to grate on his nerves and wear down his patience; and after waiting over a hundred years to get his son back, LaCroix liked to think he had far more patience than most vampires.

After a week of seeing his son reduced to the state of a simple drunkard, he decided he'd seen enough; LaCroix had awoken after sunset and stormed into the sitting room expecting to find Nick there already. But his son was not there, nor was he anywhere in the building at all. He could sense that his son was outside, somewhere out in the night, and he would find him.

Leaving the building quickly, LaCroix flew through the sky, searching for the familiar presence of his 800 year old son. He stood on rooftops and in the shadows of the skyscrapers, he scoured the lonely parks and unwelcoming backstreets that, unlike so much of the great city, didn't seem any different at all, but for a while it seemed that Nicholas was eluding him. The General could sense that Nick was still with the city limits so he continued to track his sons' conflicted presence across the city until finally, he saw Nicholas standing atop Saint Paul's Cathedral, holding onto the top most spire above the silver-like dome.

The Romanesque building never failed to remind him of home, and LaCroix forced himself back to the present. This building was a mere imitation that was all; he had seen it in construction and recalled how easily he had sneered at man's amusing attachment, and ludicrous dedication to building a 'home' to house the spirit of god even after he was 'responsible' for the plagues and famines, and for the great fire that had so ravaged the city.

Nicholas had been rather fond of the building, and he had marvelled at the techniques used to build it; LaCroix had sneered at that too; for he had seen nothing new that his people had not used before it had all been forgotten long ago.

After a while, he saw Nick fly down from the building and started to walk the streets as a mortal. LaCroix followed, always at a discrete distance, as his son wandered through the city. He wondered whether or not that the younger vampire was actually seeing what was in front of him clearly or not, Nicholas seemed distant, even dazed and he paid little attention to his surroundings…like the oncoming traffic when one stands in the middle of a road, for instance. Just as LaCroix was about to intervene by flying his son high above the city, Nicholas jumped out of the road and landed hard on the pavement; hard enough to leave a significant bruise on a mortal, not enough to even graze a vampire though.

Nick stood up and stretched his muscles; that truck had almost ran straight into him; he really should have been paying more attention, but he had been seeing the London of old, and old London had no trucks to get hit by. Suddenly, and not for the first time, it seemed to Nick that the hundreds of years had just flown by, in much the same way he could fly over a city; so much could change in a mere hundred, or two hundred years. How could it feel like such a short time one minute, and then feel like far too long for one man to live, the next? It was times like this that he wondered how LaCroix could cope with seeing almost 2,000 years of human history and still find the will to carry on. When he wasn't lofting on his shining, proverbial pedestal, sneering at the lowly beings below, the man was actually quite remarkable.

And it seemed, that once more, Nick was indebted to him…in a strange way part of him was still glad to be alive; perhaps it was just the vampire part that never wanted to die.

It seemed strange to him that LaCroix would want to return to London again, but if he was honest he didn't particularly care. What he cared more about was why his master hadn't killed him like he'd asked; Nick had wanted to ask so many times but he hadn't found the courage to do so, it was easier just to sit in the dark, wallowing in self-pity, and loathing. He must be an extreme disappointment to LaCroix, but what else was new?

Over the last year, he wasn't at all sorry to say that his 'father' and he had been a lot closer than he could ever remember in 800 years, even to come as far to tell LaCroix that he was Nick's closet friend was something he never thought he'd be hearing himself say. It just wasn't the same without Janette though; the place which his sister / lover / friend had filled for so long in his heart was now empty, had been empty for some time now, and he didn't like it, not one bit. The strange thing was though, that it wasn't until after she died, that he and LaCroix had started to become closer – she would've loved the cruel irony of it…or perhaps not.

It was even more ironic that the man he thought he despised more than anything, was indeed his closest friend, someone, perhaps now the only person whom he could trust explicitly, and who actually wanted his company. That was something he'd never really understood; why LaCroix had valued his company, even back when he had been a young vampire, or even when he started to drift away from his father, it simply made no sense to Nick. But like any son, he had still found himself going to his father when he needed help and had been surprised to get it, however reluctant the man had acted, he had always helped Nick when he needed it most.

And it seemed that the reverse was also true, as when LaCroix's daughter Divia had been poised to behead her own father, Nick could've let her kill him…but how could he, when the old General had actually done the right thing all those years ago. Divia was a monster and LaCroix had put an end to her; he had done the right thing - Nick couldn't let him die for that. It had been one of very few times he had seen the man show a shred of human remorse and love, he had loved his daughter and he had killed her, and then he'd had to let her die all over again…all after the fact that she had once saved his life.

His mood still decisively sombre he turned a corner into a dark alleyway, but with his sensitive hearing Nick heard the distinctive sound of gunfire and a loud, frightened scream come from behind him, and without a further thought he spun around and searched for the source of the sound. Using his heightened senses he quickly saw that, inside a large newsagents shop on the street, were three men all armed, and masked.

He reached for his gun, only to sigh as he remembered that he was no longer a Toronto police officer, and therefore the weapon had been handed back to the station. He ran through the shadows, avoiding the artificial lights of the street he flew around the building and found the best way in, and then overlooked the store. Nick could make out three men all with guns, and at least a dozen people all lined up, kneeling on the floor by the far wall. One of the men began shooting again, thankfully he wasn't aiming at the hostages; merely to scare them he had discharged numerous rounds in the walls and floor.

He couldn't risk revealing his nature to so many people, and it wouldn't take much for those men to go from shooting walls and floors to innocent bystanders. Knowing that he really should wait for the police to handle it, but if anything happened and he had the opportunity to prevent it, he knew it would only further his already overwhelming guilt-dilemma.

With one last look, Nick walked right through into the store, as though the last thing he'd been expecting tonight was to be facing the three men armed with guns.

"How'd you get in here?!" one of them demanded.

"The door," Nick answered.

"I thought you said you locked it!" the man shouted to one of his 'associates'.

"I did! He's lying!"

"Alright, get down there," Nick was ordered and rather brutishly pushed into line up with the others. He saw one of the men storm away to, presumably check that the door was locked, and beside him, a young aged woman with dark hair seemed to be the only other one with a calm face.

"How did you really get in?" she asked very calmly; he got the impression that she was no stranger to robberies and gunfire.

"The door, like I said," Nick told her.

"Right, you're not a cop, are you? I don't recognise you."

"I'm…" he began to say before the barrel of a gun came into his view.

"No talking!" the man ordered and Nick did as he said, if he didn't it would spell disaster. "Hurry it up!" he then commanded his friends who were busy emptying the till and then they disappeared beneath the counter.

With two of them now out of sight, Nick took his chance and ordered the other hostages to get out of the line of fire, then punched the remaining masked man hard enough to knock him out instantly. Then the other two returned and made to shoot at him, but he was faster than them and the second man was swiftly sent hurtling into a stack of shelves, the merchandise tumbling to the ground beside him and he slumped in defeat.

The remaining man fired his gun and just managed to catch Nick's right arm, the bullet grazing past his bicep, but he ignored it, after all he could hardly feel it; after a month of idleness and a more than filling diet of human blood, a mere bullet was nothing. The vampire in him longed to be released, it wanted to kill these people and tear out their throats to drain their blood, regardless of whether he was hungry or not, and dismissive of whether it was a hostage or a criminal. He managed to repress it, to ignore it as he tackled the third man and tore the weapon from his hands, then pinned his arms behind his back, just as he could hear a police siren come closer and closer to them.

It always seemed very anticlimactic to Nick when something like this could be over in a flash, he knew he had acted rashly and was probably in for some serious grilling when the police came to talk to him, but he couldn't bring himself to regret what he'd done.

Throughout the whole event, LaCroix had watched with a look of triumphant amusement in his grey eyes; he had been searching for something to drag Nicholas back from the edge of depression, and it turned out to be something as simple as police work. He'd had his suspicions that it would be something like this, although it couldn't have gone better if he'd planned it himself. In the last 10 minutes he'd seen more life in Nicholas than he had in well over a month, and LaCroix was not going to ignore this.

He continued to watch as finally, Nicholas looked around, sensing his presence; it was almost pitiful that it had taken so long for his son to notice that he was watching.

While the police arrived and subsequently took the would-be robbers away and lead out the shaking hostages from the scene, Nick was leaning against a wall watching and listening. He found that he had been proven right; the woman whom he had briefly spoken to in the store was a police Inspector, and he could hear her speaking with her superior officer.

"Did you try and negotiate?" another, older woman was asking her.

"Well, I didn't get a chance to do anything before this guy went all James Bond on them," she answered.

"What guy?"

"I don't know his name…that's him over there," the Inspector said and looked across at him. He took that as his cue and walked across to them.

"Ah, so you're the hothead that gave two of my blaggers some serious concessions," the second woman said to him immediately.

"Guilty," he nodded.

"Impressive…Mr…er…"

"Nick Kn…"

"Nicholas," LaCroix suddenly stepped in from nowhere, "There you are," he said, walking across to his son. "My goodness, what happened here?" he asked with mock-horror as he regarded the police cars, the ambulance, crowd of people, and official police tape.

"Who are you?" the Inspector asked sharply.

"Lucien LaCroix, at your service, I do hope my…nephew hasn't been casing you any trouble, miss…"

"Inspector Liz Tate of the Met," she answered with a firm handshake, "This is Superintendent Linda Mason, your nephew may have just saved my life…a couple of kids with some serious fire arms got loose in there," she looked back at the store.

"You never can stay out of trouble, can you?" LaCroix sighed at Nick, who still looked shocked at being introduced as the man's nephew.

"Would you mind coming to the station, just so's we can get a statement?" Superintendent Jacobs asked, and knowing he couldn't really refuse, Nick just nodded. "You know it was a really risk you took doing what you did, you should leave this stuff to us."

While Nick held his tongue LaCroix scoffed, "Something wrong, Mr LaCroix?" she asked.

"In a manner of speaking, my nephew is one of you, or was, isn't that right, Nicholas?"

"Hmm…oh, yeah, I was with the Toronto police," he said.

"Was?" Inspector Tate questioned.

"Just moved," LaCroix explained simply, and showed no signs of further elaboration.

"Did you have the medic look at your arm; I thought I saw something get you," Liz asked Nick as the four of them walked across to a police car.

"Oh, no, it's fine, it missed me," Nick told her, lightly turning his arm slightly to hide the tear in his jacket sleeve.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he nodded as he, followed by LaCroix, got into a car headed for the station.

It was a short, silent ride, and Nick was sure he felt LaCroix's stare of amusement mixed with slight irritation at having been drawn back into the human justice system he so often scorned, but was glad that he was choosing to act natural.

After quickly signing his witness statement and joining LaCroix and the other police officers back in the main room he noticed a strange expression on the face of the middle aged Superintendent.

"Thanks, I doubt we'll need to contact you again about this," she said to him, "You know how these things go, but err, your uncle tells me you need a job, if you want I could…"

"That's very kind, but I…"

"He'll think about it," LaCroix replied quickly, and without another word, lead Nick from the station, back into the street.

"What was that? I'll think about it? What did you tell them …"

"What I told them is of no importance, but you simply must _do_ something," LaCroix told Nick in a commanding tone. It didn't matter to him that there were people walking past him, or that they were stood in the middle of the street, he simply continued to speak. "You cannot continue to stagnate any longer, I won't allow it, do you hear me?" he snapped. "You cannot mourn forever, Nicholas; life, such as it is, goes on," LaCroix told him forcefully.

"…I know," Nick replied quietly.

"Then, take this woman at her offer; I know how much you must miss your little 'cops and robbers' games," the older vampire said with a smirk, "You weren't at all terrible at it, you know," he added.

"…Was that actually a compliment?"

"Not in the least."

"Good, for a moment there I thought you'd gone soft," Nick replied.

"Very droll," LaCroix raised an eyebrow, shortly before they flew back through the city.


	3. Inertia

**CHAPTER 2: Inertia**

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"You'd been following me all night, hadn't you?" Nick finally asked LaCroix once they'd been back in the large, dark living room of the house for a good, long while. Sunrise was fast approaching but the curtains were thick enough to rival the black-out curtains used in the war; they would keep the room dark and isolated long after the sun rose to its peak.

"Of course," LaCroix nodded unashamedly.

"Any particular reason why?"

"You mean aside from the dangerously catatonic state of inertia you've been exhibiting lately which could've lead to your discovery on more than one occasion tonight?" he shrugged, "None whatsoever."

Nick quietly scoffed and avoided eye contact with LaCroix as the man continued, "You are distressed, and you shouldn't have gone outside without my knowledge."

"Nothing happened," Nick replied.

"Oh, what would've happened if one of those cars had actually hit you? You just get up and walk away without anyone asking any questions? Or, what if you'd got shot in full view of your little audience and found that some were resistors? You never think things through, do you? Do you have any idea what the Enforcers would do to you if…"

"I know, I get it, I do…I just couldn't stay inside anymore…"

"Was your constant brooding beginning to bore you?" LaCroix asked sarcastically, earning a scowl from his son. "I've told you before that your guilt will lead to destruction."

"Yeah," the younger vampire nodded meekly.

"You need to let it go."

"How can I?" Nick snapped harshly.

"Knowing you, it will be through a very a slow, laborious possess, hampered by unnecessary difficulty...but you can move on. However, if you begin abstaining from human blood once more, your hunger will build up and you will kill again…and you won't be able to stop yourself."

"…I tried…" Nick whimpered.

"I know," LaCroix replied with unusual sympathy he refrained from saying 'I told you so', since this was hardly the appropriate moment. He started to unbutton the top of his black shirt, "You need to feed," he told Nick, who froze where he sat.

It had been many a year since Nick could remember making the conscious decision to feed from his vampire master and he'd made a vow never to do so again. Being offered the chance to once again taste the blood of one's maker was not something any vampire could easily turn down; male, female, adult or child, young vampire or old vampire, if there was one thing more tempting than human blood it was the blood of one's maker. It could aid healing remarkably faster than human blood, it could calm the new-born hunger for a time thus allowing one to think clearly, and it served to greatly strengthen the bond between master and child. The latter was the main reason Nick had sworn off it; he had spent years trying to leave LaCroix behind him but a single drop of his blood would undo a century and more of Nick's hard work.

He turned away from LaCroix and stared instead at the grand piano; a beautiful piece in shining black, illuminated by the faint candlelight. Usually in the presence of such a stately piece he would hear the keys insistently calling out to be played, but now all Nick could think of was the blood pulsing through his master's veins and how much he wanted it.

There seemed little point in trying to keep his distance from his master with everything that had happened in the last year or so; he was forced to admit that his father did actually care for him, and that he cared for his father. How could he still try and maintain that distance when he needed LaCroix more than ever?

All the years of starvation he'd forced upon himself, sated in part only by animal blood, seemed like a punishment in comparison to what LaCroix was offering him. But it would mean facing up to the fact that everything he'd been striving for was now meaningless, worthless and a complete waste of a century. Was that such a bad thing though? After all, he was no closer to being mortal then he had been since the night he had been brought across. Jeanette had told him that his quest was the right path to take…right before she had died, that was. How could she choose to die as a mortal rather than to live as a vampire? Never would Nick have expected her to do anything like that.

The vampire in him was telling him that it was better to live with eternal night than to die, he wanted to live; life was too precious, it was a gift not to be squandered. Perhaps it was truly better to resign himself to being a vampire for all time; it wasn't like he hadn't saved lives thanks to his abilities, abilities he wouldn't have as a mortal. And if he took up the chance to help people again here as a police officer he could save more lives taking risks that mortals couldn't take without fatal consequences.

Did being a vampire truly mean such a hated existence to him? He had proven that he didn't have to kill every night; he didn't have to be a monster all the time, and when it came down to it, could he really give up all of the abilities that came with being a vampire if he had the option? Nick wasn't entirely sure anymore. When he had no one human left to share his life with what was the point in wanting to grow old and die?

"Nicholas," LaCroix said, dragging Nick back from his chaotic thoughts. He could sense his child's unnecessary distress, but Nicholas always did like to overcomplicate things. LaCroix was trying to help his son and that same son was making things worse by stalling and thinking himself into an early grave.

Over all of his years, and with the many vampires he'd brought across, LaCroix had found that the blood of one's master would soothe the child - which was his aim now if Nick would only let him.

"No, no I can't," Nick said after a minute. He continued to repress the voice in his head, getting louder and louder, screaming and shouting at him to simply take his master's blood.

"I will order you if I must," LaCroix replied, "We both know it is for the best," he added. Nicholas never seemed to ask him why LaCroix had always used to offer him his throat back when they had been close, rather than his wrist like he had with Janette. In fact, Nick had hardly, if ever, seen anyone feed from LaCroix's neck, except himself on rare occasion.

Nick shook his head again as the blood filled vein in his master's neck continued to draw his attention, mocking his self-control it offered a way out of his emotional turmoil…it was difficult to go on refusing like this. He felt his fangs descend and his eyes shone green as LaCroix walked across to where he sat.

"Please leave," Nick said.

"Why must you always make things so difficult, Nicholas?" the older vampire asked his son as he took a seat on the sofa next to Nick, whose control, he sensed, was quickly diminishing.

LaCroix made a small incision on his wrist with his fangs and held out the bleeding limb to Nick. "Do not continue to deny what you are; it will not end well," he told his son earnestly. "Time for a new start; let's make this one work, shall we?"

"What'd you…" Nick started to ask, but the second he both heard and felt a drop of LaCroix's blood hit the fabric of the sofa he lost his voice. He remained still, clutching the sofa and digging his nails into his palms as he did so with painful vampiric strength.

After a moment of stillness Nick moved his gaze to stare at the blood collecting at LaCroix's wrist and he couldn't find it in himself to deny his hunger any longer. When it became unbearable, Nick quickly dragged his master's wrist to his lips and drank deeply from the small wound. But it wasn't enough, and so he moved to his master's neck and drank even more hungrily.

It wasn't long before he could feel LaCroix's self-assuredness and overwhelming confidence as though it were his own; suddenly his fears seemed irrelevant as the blood swiftly travelled down his throat. It was as though he was no longer himself, he was no longer Nick or even LaCroix; he was the proud General Lucius returned after a bloody battle, in glorious victory to Pompeii - to splendour and ceremony.

This wasn't something Nick had ever seen in all of the times he'd fed from LaCroix in the distant past, this had never happened before; he'd never seen into his master's past, especially since the man was so reticent about the subject. Was this an intrusion on his part, or was it simply a mistake?

Nick watched as Vesuvius erupted through the eyes of LaCroix, who fled with his daughter to the hills where they heard the dying cries of the people below. They watched as the world burned and Nick felt LaCroix's new-born hunger as his own; he could smell the blood of the dying mixed with the foul air, polluted by the ash of the infamous volcano through his masters senses.

He could watch no further; feeling that he was encroaching on LaCroix's memories, Nick pulled away from his throat with an iron willpower he didn't know he still possessed and looked directly at the former Roman General.

"What did you see?" LaCroix asked, guessing that it was something of a shocking nature to tear Nicholas away from his blood so abruptly.

"Pompeii," Nick answered, "...Vesuvius…Divia…"

"Ah, I apologise, it's sometimes difficult to repress old memories...as I'm sure you know."

"But it's never happened before."

"Do you recall the last time I fed you like this? You were a new-born, it's far easier to keep memories from a new-born who had no restraint, than it is to hide them from one who has amassed almost 800 years," LaCroix told him.

"So...why did I see that now?"

"Perhaps you wanted to see it," he suggested.

Nick was about to question his master's meaning but refrained from doing so; he believed he understood. Since he had been thinking about how close he had been to LaCroix in the last year before feeding from him, perhaps he had seen into the vampire's past because he wanted to trust LaCroix this time, he didn't want any further secrets or lies between them if he was going to start a new life. It would be difficult, especially since he'd left so much behind and lost so much, but Nick would never forget the friends he'd found in Toronto.

But it was time to move on; and trusting LaCroix would be necessary if he were to do so. If all he had left was his 'closest friend' he wanted to make things work out, he didn't want to be alone again; LaCroix wanted his company and he wanted to be in LaCroix's company – it wasn't complicated.

"And perhaps I let you," Nick heard LaCroix say after a minute, and he turned his attention to the marks in his master's neck which were still stained red with blood; the wounds still open he watched as the blood trickled down down LaCroix's neck, staining the open collar of his shirt.

Nick wanted more of LaCroix's blood; he wanted to feel safe again, he wanted to feel confident and guiltless once more. But the rational side of his mind told him that he didn't need anymore, so he turned away. "As you wish," LaCroix shrugged and stood up.

"Thank you," Nick managed to say, still without turning to look at his master who was placing his fingers in the open wounds to heal them. "So...err...what was with the 'nephew' thing earlier, anyway?"

"Well, I could hardly inform them that you're my son, now could I? I don't appear any where near old enough for that," LaCroix scoffed.

"Right...so that makes me your nephew?"

"It's close enough, isn't it?"

"I guess," Nick sighed, and could think of nothing further to say.

"Police work again then, is it?" the old vampire asked after a while.

"No, I don't think it's a good idea...not again."

"Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Don't try and lie to me, Nicholas, it is what you want. And if you want it so badly, go and do it, or find something else to do before you destroy yourself," LaCroix implored.

"Alright, alright, I'll work on it," Nick sighed and leaned back into the sofa, "What about you? What are you gonna do...are you going to look for a job too?"

"I already have a sufficient distraction," he replied.

"What?"

"I run a nightclub," LaCroix answered.

"You got another club?" Nick repeated, "I thought we'd only been here a month!"

"Yes," he replied, "It's rather unusual, but I found I rather enjoyed the job; it was surprisingly entertaining...and it is relatively easy to tempt mortals with enough monetary favour," he informed his son with a strange look of disdain.

"...The mighty General choosing to keep a nightclub...again... I wouldn't worry, LaCroix, I'm sure your reputation will survive," Nick replied with utmost seriousness, but a betraying smile plucking at his lips. "So...what's it called?"

"Blue Moon," his master answered.

"And...do vampires err..." Nick began, not needing to finish the sentence he let LaCroix speak.

"They do now," he replied impassively.

"Uh-huh," Nick nodded with a smile, and all was silent as both vampires looked at the old clock on the wall to see that it was moments past sunrise.

"Well, Nicholas...another sunrise..." LaCroix sighed and stood up, "Good day," he added and walked to the doors.

"LaCroix..." Nick called, and LaCroix stopped. "The club thing...are you doing it as some kind of last wish for Janette?"

"...Really, Nicholas," the old vampire weakly scoffed and walked away, hiding from his son the momentary look of guilt on his pale face.

...

As he lay awake that morning, trying to sleep, Nick thought back to his last night in Toronto, of his murdering the woman he loved and trusted inexplicitly, then of his asking his master and closest friend to kill him…and then of total darkness. There was no thought, no sensation, so sight or sound or smell…and then suddenly…there had been light…there had been hunger…he was no longer dead. How, he didn't know…all he did know, was that he could hear again…he heard a clock ticking, he heard the wind outside…he heard rustling fabric around him when he tried to move. So it was true…he wasn't dead…LaCroix hadn't killed him.

He'd hardly believed it at first; his master had let him live…it was remarkable...It was cruel, Nick had wanted nothing more than to see Natalie and even Schanke in the next life, but LaCroix would deny him even that. For a while he'd hated LaCroix; why couldn't the man just let him die?

But he'd come to realise that it hadn't been done out of spite, it had been done…or not done, rather, because LaCroix cared about him. LaCroix had fed him repeatedly. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened.

And what was more surprising was the fact that that same LaCroix had brought a nightclub and was using it like the Raven, even though he had no obligation. The first club he'd 'looked after' for Janette, this one he'd spent his own (substantial) funds on buying. Nick had though that LaCroix had lost the ability to surprise him many a century ago...but clearly he had been wrong...about a lot of things, it seemed.

In his room he'd found the things he'd collected with him throughout the centuries here with him. Everything he'd thought he'd left back in Toronto was here in London...had LaCroix had his things brought over? His master had always told him not to get attached to objects; that it was a bad idea and could lead to trouble. And yet, there again was that ability to surprise him. Did LaCroix only do it to prove Nick wrong?

No, perhaps he was over thinking the issue; it was late and he was tired, that was all. He continued to toss and turn in the soft bed, and somewhere around mid morning, Nick finally closed his eyes and slept.

...

LaCroix was sat at the desk in his dark room, it was lit by a handful of candles which flickered in the air. He stared at the antiquated painting of Janette which he hadn't been able to leave behind. The old oil paints, even used by a great master, hadn't been able to capture all of her enticing beauty. It was almost an insult.

It was a cruel irony, that she had been the one to obtain humanity and then refuse to give it up. But life was full of cruelty. LaCroix knew, and Janette had known, that Nicholas had always been, and would always be his favourite. But she was independent enough to live with that, she had been strong enough to accept it. He liked to think that she had inherited his strength, but she had been strong willed even as a mortal; one needed to be to survive a life like hers.

If it had been a choice of saving one or the other, both he and Janette knew who he would choose. That's not to say it wouldn't be difficult. He had many more years with Janette, who'd stayed loyal since the night she was turned, rather than with Nicholas who had always had doubts and the frequent need to voice them. He'd liked Janette, he liked her strength of will and her independence, she knew what she wanted and she knew how to get it.

LaCroix, like many old vampires, had brought across many over the years, but it was only ever Nicholas and Janette whom he'd kept close; his favourites...one of whom was now dead. Unlike Divia, he would miss Janette, but there was nothing he could do to bring her back, he had to focus on Nicholas. The younger vampire had enough problems to deal with and he was not going to make this easy.


	4. Nicolas LaCroix

**CHAPTER 3: Nicolas LaCroix.**

* * *

After only four hours of sleep LaCroix rose from his expensive, silk covered bed to take a long shower. He didn't usually tend to dwell on his past decisions but this last month, it appeared, was the exception. Part of him was certain that this was all a very bad idea; mortals were the prey and further encouraging Nicholas to interact with them was surely setting him up for a fall. If only Nick could earn to control his emotions and not get so easily attached to mortals, then things wouldn't be so bad…but then he wouldn't really be Nick anymore, would he?

LaCroix could hardly talk; he had become attached to a mortal Nicolas de Brabant 800 years ago and seen everything in him he'd wanted in a son. Every minute of training him, of teaching him to kill and to hunt had been a joy; they had been some of the best moments of his life.

The warm water of the shower helped take his mind off the thoughts that continued to nag at him...it was almost like having a conscience. It was most inconvenient...and almost irritatingly human.

A while later, he padded back into his bedroom as he buttoned up a clean black shirt and picked up one of his bottles as he passed a coffee table. LaCroix poured himself a glass and gradually, he heard the quiet, tentative sounds of a piano from the ground floor flittering through the ceiling. It was broken and tuneless at first - evidently Nicholas had forgotten more than he thought possible in only a month.

But after a while the music became more complicated and the tempo increased until it morphed into a slow, mournful tune and then through into Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata', which he knew was one of his son's favourites. Written in 1801, Nicholas had known Beethoven before the man had shown the first signs of his ironic disability, and had known the composer at his best. Even LaCroix couldn't argue that the man's work was impressive.

He remembered his son playing Beethoven's works after he had died, that night, LaCroix and Janette hadn't strayed from Nick's side, and they'd listened to the entirety of the man's piano compositions, perfectly memorised and performed by Nicholas.

LaCroix was relieved that Nick was finally showing signs of movement, after not hearing his son play the piano since he'd brought them to London; he'd forgotten how much he missed it. Nick had been idle for too long. He needed a distraction, he needed to work. If brining his son back meant swallowing his pride and letting Nick play human again, then LaCroix had little choice but to let him.

If he continued to mock his son's love of playing mortal and continued to deny him, then Nick would pull away again and LaCroix wasn't sure if Nicholas would return again. Another lifetime spent following his son in the shadows, being hated, reviled, detested and abhorred was too exasperating to contemplate. Eternity was a long time, but an eternity spent alone was longer still. And besides, the closer he was to Nicholas, the more easily he could protect him.

All fathers were fools when it came to their children, especially their favourite child. LaCroix had heard it said many times that a parent should have no favourites when it came to his children. When he was mortal he'd only had one child…one legitimate child, at any rate, so it hadn't been a problem back then. But among his immortal children he'd only ever kept two of them close by, he'd only ever taught them everything and professed to only be a father to Janette and Nicholas. The others had simply been play things, escapes from boredom, a moment of intrigue magnified by intense hunger; he hadn't given them much thought at all.

Whereas Janette he had followed and observed for weeks, and been attracted by her spirit, her strength and her courage; LaCroix had put long hours of thought into his creation of Janette, and she remained his favourite immortal daughter to the end. Nicholas had been another story though; he had seen the crusader on the same night he had brought him across. He had seen something in the disillusioned warrior that to this day he still couldn't quite put into words…

* * *

**_Paris, 1228…_**

_...Lucien LaCroix had sat with his daughter, Janette in the corner of the crowded banquet hall, both dressed in finery unmatched by any other they'd passed in the night. The room was alive with people laughing, talking and drinking…banquets never changed._

_They sat side by side with others from the town to 'celebrate' the return of the victorious crusaders. In truth, the old Roman had simply come to be amused at the expense of the fools who'd been fed the old 'bread and circuses' theory. Rewarded with food and women in return for risking their lives for a 'God' that could promise nothing physical, and punished most likely, if they refused to leave in the first place. The whole thing was quite ridiculous._

_Not one crusader he had seen so far had given the impression that the mortals had spoken of; not one possessed a handsome, commanding magnificence, not one looked brave or courageous, and not a one portrayed the gravitas and dignity that his men had once done in the service of the Emperor. These men were not warriors; they were mere boys pretending to live up to the standards of old that he had fought under; they were feeble children being used by those in power, who cowered behind religion to justify an endless, meaningless war._

_He turned to Janette to tell her that he'd seen enough fools for one night and that they would leave, but she was not looking at him. Her neck was craned to see over the swarm of people with a look of longing and intense approval in her eyes which he'd rarely seen. LaCroix followed his daughter's enraptured gaze to see a man standing at the room's far archway, he was stood with a tired dignity that he had seen no other crusader display._

_The, as yet nameless man, did display a beauty that no other had shown this night, though it was a worn and weathered beauty, it was still there. He didn't smile and laugh with the others, he didn't jump straight into the mass of people and throw his decorum aside to drink and be merry in His name. In fact, he didn't look joyful at all. He took off his cloak and slowly walked around the room taking up a drink as he did so and he was then guided rather familiarly and drunkenly by a considerable number of his fellow crusaders to a messy table piled high with food._

_LaCroix continued to watch as the man, whom he had heard more than once now be addressed as Nicolas, said hardly a word as he continued to drink in silence. It seemed as though he cared nothing for his 'friends', he didn't seem to care for their conversation or their merriment._

_"Il est très beau," Janette said to him after a while. (He is very handsome.)_

_"Oui, c'est vrai," he nodded; there was something about this particular man which caught his attention. (Yes, that's true.)_

_"Il n'est pas comme les autres," she continued. (He is not like the others.)_

_"Non," he replied._

_"Je le veux," Janette told him plainly. (I want him.)_

_"Then take him," LaCroix replied only half listening, still transfixed by the mortal crusader._

_"Non, non, I want him…with us… Vous le sentir aussi. Il ya quelque chose à propos de lui….Il ferait un bon fils ..." she suggested non-too subtly. (You sense it too. There is something about him….He would make a good son...)_

_LaCroix had been thinking the same for a while now; there was indeed something about this crusader, this Nicolas, which he couldn't describe. Was it merely the smell of his blood? It was true that his blood smelt sweeter than any he'd ever encountered. Was it merely because he had looked for a son for so long and he was getting tired of searching? He didn't think so. He had always been guarded when choosing children that he intended to keep with him, he had put so much effort into Janette, and well over a thousand years into searching for a son, perhaps it was time he settled on his choice._

_This crusader had something that drew both his and Janette's attention unintentionally from across a crowded room of people…it was inexplicable that a mere mortal could do this to them…but there it was._

_"J'ai pensé la même chose, mon cher," he thought aloud as he steeled his pale fingers and leaned his chin against them. (I've been thinking the same, my dear.)_

_After a moment of silence he turned back to his daughter with a grin, "Peut-être que notre cher Nicolas préférez votre entreprise enchanteur cette nuit, mon enfant… Vous pouvez nous presenter," he chuckled as he saw grateful realisation on her face.(Perhaps our dear Nicolas would prefer your enchanting company this night, my child…You can introduce us.)_

_"Merci, LaCroix." (Thank you.)_

_"Non, mon cher, non, ce n'est pas pour vous," LaCroix said, with utmost seriousness. (No, my dear, no, this is not for you.)_

_His intention was to gain a son for himself, not to find an immortal lover for her. She, was who was now so accustomed to taking what she desired from men and throwing them away afterwards, would probably grow bored of him after a while anyway. LaCroix, on the other hand, would never grow tired of his son, the son he had searched so long for was finally within his grasp, and he vowed never to let him go…_

* * *

_**London, 1996…**_

That had been a vow he still kept to this day. There wasn't a night that went by that LaCroix didn't think about his son, and when Nicholas had finally broken away from him it had been almost more than he could take. It had brought out his anger and vengeance far worse than any war he'd fought in, and it made him see everything in red.

They'd had good times and some not so good times, but throughout the centuries, the one thing he could always be assured of was that his son would be by his side…but he'd forgotten how headstrong children could be. LaCroix was exhausted by the thought of encouraging his son to pursue something that he had tried so hard to discourage...but he was a father. He wanted his son back. So he would let said son do what he wanted, that's what father's did...or so he'd been told.

In a sense it still felt like admitting defeat, and as a General, something like that wasn't easy to ignore. He'd been a marked soldier since birth and even after 2,000 years it was still difficult to ignore the ways of war that had been imprinted in his mind so long ago. But Nicholas was more important than battle strategies…wasn't he?

After a while he descended the stairs and stood in the doorway, watching his son at the piano. He saw that there was an opened bottle of blood resting on top of its flat surface with a half empty wine glass and LaCroix frowned. "That is the only one you've opened so far, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes," Nick answered and stopped playing the music.

"Good, those are rather expensive, you know, and far too exquisite to waste on further self-destruction. Next time you become hell-bent on perpetual oblivion, do give me a fair warning to stock something less savoury."

"Your concern is touching," Nick scoffed.

"You are more than old enough to know what an excess of alcohol leads to; vampires are not immune to intoxication...wasn't that your motive?"

"I didn't..."

"What else should I say? Do you expect sympathy? Pity? No," LaCroix shook his head, "I want you to understand that though you are my son you should realise the consequences of your actions."

As Nick listened he got the feeling that LaCroix wasn't merely talking about 'intoxication'. "If humans starve themselves they become weak and vulnerable, it is the same for us, we must eat or we weaken. You abstained and you floundered, your resolve and your strength became weak and you made mistakes," his master continued.

"I know," Nick sighed.

"Understand me, Nicholas, it's not my intention to gloat, I take no pleasure in seeing you like this whatever you might think," LaCroix said more kindly, and walked across to stand beside Nick. He took up the wine glass and drank from it, before placing it back onto the piano and then he walked across it sit in the armchair opposite his son.

Nick turned to face LaCroix as he spoke again a minute later, "Come sundown you should visit the club with me, I found someone I think you'll like," he said with a curious look that Nick knew could mean trouble.

"Who?" he asked warily as he observed his master.

"A beautiful young prize, calling herself Madeline Emmett, she dances at the club, well, she does now at any rate. I'll introduce you if you like, although…she is a very young vampire, but I don't recall you ever having any particular scruples about…"

"LaCroix," Nick sighed loudly and turned back to the piano as he heard his master snigger.

"Do relax a little; you'd do us both a favour," LaCroix grinned as he leaned to sit back in his chair.

"I don't appreciate you trying to play matchmaker," the younger vampire sighed heavily.

"Who said anything about 'matchmaking'; really, it's such a derogatory..."

"LaCroix, just tell me...before we...left...what did you do with...Natalie's..." Nick broke off with a sigh and LaCroix regarded his son with a rare look of pity, which of course Nick didn't see. He was too busy making a deep analysis of the pristine piano keys and trying to keep away the bad memories of what he'd done.

"I buried her, with respect," LaCroix answered slowly, "I convinced the necessary people that she simply moved on, and that you were doing the same, separately of course." he finished and saw his son nod once in acknowledgement.

When Nick said nothing, LaCroix continued, "You may not believe me, but I am sorry for the way things turned out...however...you had to know it wouldn't have ended well. I tried to tell you that continual starvation only leads to destruction...I only want the best for you, and that is not it."

"You want what's best for me? No...You want what you think is best!" Nick hissed.

"It's the same thing. I am far older than you; don't you think I've seen this before? I'm no stranger to starvation and what it leads to for our kind. You want to lead a mortal life, you want to work and live with them, fine, do so, but in exchange I expect you not to repeat the same mistake," LaCroix replied calmly.

"You mean you want me to stop looking for a cure?"

"Of course I do, I always have, but you know me well enough - I hope - to know that what I want has always been much simpler than that."

"Companionship," Nick whispered to himself.

"Indeed," he nodded.

"Why do this? Why let me have a mortal career when you so despise the idea?" Nick again turned around to face his father hoping for an honest answer.

"Isn't that what you want? Freedom...and all that?" LaCroix asked with a weak grin.

"That's never mattered to you before," Nick countered with old venom.

"No," the old General shook his head, suddenly he felt the same, almost sickening feeling of defeat threaten to drown him. But he had to remind himself that this was not a war. Nicholas was his son, not his enemy, he wanted his son by his side and his son needed his help...in return he would offer Nick the freedom he so coveted. It was a compromise such as a Roman General would be almost ashamed of, but as a father it was far more difficult to commit to.

For a parent, changing ones attitudes was far more difficult than it was for a child. Nicholas would never know just how difficult. "Quid pro quo, Nicholas," he said, "One thing for another."

"So...You want me to stay here, with you, in return for...'freedom'? Or what…what if I leave again?"

"Or...nothing, I suppose, after all, what else is there for either of us?" LaCroix asked rhetorically, "Who else is there really, Nicholas? You are my son, I am your father; we always find each other in the end."

Nick sighed as he listened to LaCroix's words, and he hated to admit it but there was some truth in the old vampire was saying. He had no one else left really, no one who had such an influential part in his life as LaCroix had. And no one else he trusted as much, if he was honest. After spending so long running from LaCroix it was strange to once again admit to having so much trust in his father, but a lot had changed in the last few years, more so than even in the last century combined, so Nick supposed it wasn't like it had been in the early years of the century. LaCroix hadn't tricked him or used him…recently.

He watched as LaCroix stood and opened a drawer, then turned back to him, "Here," he said and tossed a rather full envelope at Nick. Once he opened it he found that it contained the usual necessities for starting a new life; a passport, a driver's licence, bank details, national insurance information and so on…all from which he read that he was, of course no longer Nick Knight, he was Nicolas LaCroix.

"Nicolas LaCroix," Nick read aloud.

"Rather uninspired, I know," LaCroix replied simply.

"And not at all subtle."

"I was never taught to be subtle."

"Why is that not surprising?" Nick asked sarcastically.

"They do say that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit," LaCroix replied.

"But it is the highest form of intelligence," Nick retorted."…Oscar Wilde," he added in recognition.

"Correct," the older vampire nodded with a smile, once more reminding Nick that all of the time he'd spent with LaCroix had not all been bad.

"Why didn't you…do what I asked, I mean?" Nick finally asked. It had been nagging at him for days now; he needed to know why he was still alive. He watched as LaCroix blinked away for a fraction of a second, and then as his master met his gaze again. But he didn't speak; he looked as though he would, but then LaCroix changed his mind, he couldn't answer. So instead, he turned away, taking the wine glass with him as he leaned against the fireplace, staring into the flames.

"…About this girl, Nicholas," LaCroix said, ignoring Nick's subsequent sigh, "I don't believe she has many expectations but I'm sure she would appreciate it if you cleaned yourself up little."

"I don't know that first thing about her…and that's beside the point, I just asked you…"

"She's a vampire, she dances, she's young and she's rather beautiful, what else is there?" LaCroix replied, "That's rather enough to be going on with...and besides, it's rather more than what you've known before about many women in the past and that's never stopped you...or me for that matter," he continued, "Now, it's almost sunset, " LaCroix walked from the room, halting in the doorway for a second, "When I go to leave I expect you to join me."

"I…"

"That was not a request," LaCroix said with finality and left the room.

Nick sighed once more as he turned his attention back to the piano and started up a slow, mournful tune. It was when LaCroix spoke to him like that he was reminded of slaves he'd seen ordered around by their masters. It was a constant battle between whether LaCroix saw him as a slave or a son; a parent didn't treat a son like a slave…it was all very confusing…and tiring.

But it wasn't like he had anything left to lose, so Nick stood, taking the bottle with him he ascended the stairs. Perhaps this 'beautiful prize' Madeline, would help take his mind off things...and help to keep LaCroix off his back.

* * *

A.N. I apologise if you got bored of all the French but I did give you the translations and I wanted to write it in French to keep it atmospheric, so there you go.


	5. Carpe Nocte

**CHAPTER 4: Carpe Nocte.**

* * *

The 'Blue Moon' club was perfectly situated in the centre of London's busy nightlife; it was located in an old Victorian street beside several other clubs, though none were quite as inviting and tempting as the 'Blue Moon.' The queue of people awaiting admittance was already the longest and they showed no signs of giving up and moving on. It must've drove the other club owners to distraction when LaCroix had begun to monopolise their clientele.

Nick had been sat at the bar for less than five minutes and already he could sense the presence of over 20 vampires already dancing and drinking with mortals. It was surprising that LaCroix had managed to gain such a reputation so quickly among the vampire community of the capital, many of whom were now swiftly becoming regulars of the club; even the bartender was a vampire as were most of the dancers of course. They were LaCroix's eyes and ears but more importantly, they were his entertainment, he often ordered them to seduce young mortals and mess with their minds as he laughed at their vice. Nick of course didn't approve, but what could he do to stop his master from having his fun? At least he wasn't killing them.

The 'Moon' reminded Nick very strongly of the 'Raven', it had the same dark atmosphere and the same obscure décor with smooth pillars and flashing lights. Though there was a distinct absence of chains and mock-crumbling wall decoration in the room, much of it was very similar, almost painfully similar. It was a strong reminder of Janette and the deep, empty void she still left in his heart.

He drank deeply from the wine glass he'd been nursing in his palm and relished the taste of the fine vintage as it streamed down his throat. How he had denied himself human blood for so long and spent so much time around them he'd never know. Of course it hadn't been without cost...people always died when he tried to go without...it never ended well or anyone...maybe he should just stop trying altogether.

After all, he had chosen to be a vampire once, he could help people more successfully as a vampire, and he had been one for 800 years...maybe it would be difficult to adapt to being human if he ever found a cure. Would he be able to adjust to the limited strength that mortals had? What about how easily they were injured? Could he stand to live like that when he had been all but invincible for so long?

"Hey," a seductive voice permeated his senses and he turned to face the speaker.

It was a woman, a very beautiful young woman wearing a short, skin tight black dress that left nothing of her flawless pale skin to the imagination. Her eyes flashed green for a second as he met her gaze and she smiled at him.

"Madeline Emmett, I presume," Nick sighed over the music, looking down at his half empty glass he spoke again, "LaCroix sent you, didn't he?"

"Wow, he was right, you are down, aren't you, Nicholas?" she giggled as she sat beside him, very close beside him.

"Nick," he corrected automatically, not paying enough attention to realise that he was only encouraging her.

"Okay then, call me Maddy," she replied.

"Listen, I really don't think you should..."

"Maybe you didn't hear me," she said, "My name's Maddy, but if mr. LaCroix sees me walking away without putting a smile on your face I'm gonna be called little-miss-dead-and-done-Maddy...you get the picture?"

"I get the picture," Nick nodded with a grim smile as he rolled his eyes. Maddy moved even closer to him and started trailing her pale fingers up and down his arm.

"There you go, that wasn't so hard now was it?" she laughed, "And since I'm here we might as well make the most of it."

Nick couldn't believe LaCroix, he'd ordered this young vampire to throw herself at him knowing that Nick wouldn't toss her aside out of concern for her welfare regardless of whether he believed her. Sometimes he really didn't know whether to hate his master or thank him. Most men wouldn't think twice about his situation, but Nick was hardly in the mood for what Madeline was offering. All he wanted to do was sit in the dark and be alone, but no, LaCroix had to order him to a crowed club illuminated by brightly coloured neon and frequented by beautiful, young, female vampires who believed in 'free love'...literally.

As the minutes passed and the fine blood-wine was drunk Maddy's touch only grew more intense and she began trailing sensual kisses along his neck and collar bone, grazing his skin with her fangs as she grinned. The rest of the room seemed to fade away as she then took his hand and lead him across the dance floor.

He soon found himself in a dark room where there wasn't even a single candle or speck of light to cast away the night, it was any vampires' dream.

With a sensuous grin, Maddy pulled Nick against her as he stood back against the wall and brought his head to rest against the crook of her neck. LaCroix would no doubt be pleased with himself as Nick saw Maddy's eyes shine in the dark as he quickly bit into her neck and drank her blood.

It was foolish, he was giving in to his basic nature and probably would end up regretting it when morning came, but it was too easy. Ignoring the call of blood was too difficult, especially when it was being offered on a silver platter. As Madeline's young blood began flowing through his veins it became harder to think about the moral consequences, the vampire in him was screaming to possess the woman.

She was a vampire; he didn't have to worry about killing her as easily or about bringing her across, or a moral commitment...there were far too many positives here.

In the same room with them Nick heard the sounds of other feasting vampires all enraptured by their food as they breathed and moaned into the dark. Moments later, when she returned the bite he became one of them and unfocused images of Janette flowed through his mind, and memories of the last time they'd shared blood tore at his heart.

But it was Madeline, not his beloved Janette who pulled herself closer to him, with her arm round his neck and her nails digging into his skin it was getting easier and easier to ignore mortal morals. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing; it was normal for vampires to share blood for pleasure - much like mortals sharing a kiss.

When she broke away from his neck her eyes were alight with pleasure and her lips were stained with his blood. But she didn't move away completely, instead of leaving him alone she kissed him like a lover and their fangs fought for dominance. But after a moment, she broke away again, her cold hands still romancing his body as she spoke, "As fun as this is...I do have to work tonight," she giggled again.

With reluctance she pulled her body away from his and with one last kiss she left the room. Nick was left alone with the other vampires who clearly didn't even take note of his presence; they were far too preoccupied for that. He wiped the remains of her blood from his lips and walked from the room.

The noise and light in the main bar hit him suddenly, when contrasted with the quiet darkness of the small room it was quite an adjustment. Nick made his way back across to the bar and ordered another drink when he heard LaCroix chuckle as he came to stand beside him.

"Well? How was she? Was she as exquisite as she smelt?" LaCroix grinned as Nick turned away, "She has the brimming vitality of youth and what she sadly lacks in knowledge is more than compensated for by her beauty; skin like purest alabaster, and lips as red as blood...I'm only sorry I wasn't the one to bring her across," he frowned. "A great pity."

"If you wanted her so badly why didn't you have her?"

"Nonsense, she was a gift."

"She's a woman, LaCroix, not a gift," Nick countered, rolling his eyes.

"I don't believe she had any complaints regarding one or the other," LaCroix chuckled, effectively silencing the younger vampire.

Nick said nothing further, instead he focused on his wine as he continued to drink from his glass. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was all very, very wrong. He couldn't ignore the nagging whisper that LaCroix had to have an ulterior motive because he'd spent so long acting as the bane of Nick's existence that it was too difficult to picture him as anything but malevolent. And yet, here he was, full of sarcastic innuendoes enough to make a vicar blush, and acting for all the world as though nothing had ever been wrong between them.

Suddenly, Nick could sense the presence of an old vampire in the club, a stronger more focused aura than of the younger immortals dancing around him. He glanced at LaCroix who didn't seem at all surprised even though Nick had no doubt that his master could sense it too.

"Who is it?" Nick asked curiously.

"Wait and see," LaCroix replied enigmatically, he of course knew who it was...he knew who she was the second she had took a step on the street.

* * *

**_One month ago..._**

_In a rather large house in the London suburbs was a meeting room illuminated by candlelight with a large oak table, matching chairs and old stone fireplace with a lit fire, hissing in its grate. There were portraits and flora and old marble busts that were almost animate in the flickering shadows cast by the thick embroidered curtains made of the finest baroque materials._

_LaCroix had just entered the room and was greeted by two Enforcers standing at the fire and the most beautiful woman he'd seen in well over a century was pacing by the windows. She wore a long black dress with no back and little front and her long brown hair was wound at the base of her neck, embedded with jewels._

_"How dare you?!" hissed the snarling beauty. "This is my territory!" she growled and hissed in anger as her eyes shone blood red with her fangs protruding from her voluptuous lips._

_"Not anymore," LaCroix grinned as he saw the woman fly at him in a blinding rage. She went straight for his throat like a deadly panther, but he was faster, and he threw her across the room, tossing her through a thick wall, shattering a nearby bust into fragments. He didn't know whether to feel bad for the broken piece of priceless antiquity or the great beauty he'd just tarnished by tossing her like a powerless rag doll._

_Before they could continue their fight however, the two Enforcers flew over to the woman and held her to the ground, forcing her to kneel in the rubble, battering her already damaged ego._

_"He is your elder and will be treated with respect if you wish to remain," the first aneforcer said to her with menace._

_"Otherwise you and your children will be removed," said the second._

_The dusty beauty lowered her head in defeat and with one final snarl she controlled her self and nodded, she was then released and stood slowly. As she brushed the dust from her black dress and straightened her hair as though all she'd done was run on the wind, LaCroix couldn't help but admire her control. He'd seen vampires older than her quickly lose themselves to their anger and ego._

_"I acknowledge your leadership," she ground out with a forced smile and shook his hand._

* * *

**Present...**

Suffice to say that the beautiful vampire master Eris Dacca had been rather miffed at being replaced as leader of the community, but she had little choice. Age hierarchy was the only authority, besides the Code, that vampires adhered to, and if she wanted to stay in London she had to acknowledge LaCroix's authority over her house...and so she had.

Being only 1,300 years old she didn't fancy her chances if she had to fight LaCroix for territory and she had her young children to protect. Her two protégés lived with her - Luca Mancini, a 250 year old Italian and Amelia Oriya; a mere child of only 30 brief years.

LaCroix had little patience for her children, but as for Eris herself, he rather enjoyed her conversation; though she was 700 years his junior she understood things that his young Nicholas couldn't yet comprehend. She was as intelligent as she was beautiful, regal and charming and yet so deadly, she was statuesque and slender, strong and yet willowy, a perfect example of feminine beauty. She would've been heralded as a living Venus in his Rome of old.

He could sense her presence from across the crowded room as she flew across the floor, gliding with a grace that the clumsy mortals severely lacked. Upon seeing him she directed herself toward the bar and came to stand beside him, temporarily ignoring Nick.

"So good to see you again, LaCroix," she greeted him with a smile.

"And you, my dear," he replied, "Surely you've not left the children at home while you come out to play?"

"Of course not, what a suggestion, the children must not be denied," she chuckled, "They are here," she waved a dismissive hand across the club and without another word she reached for the glass in LaCroix's hand which he freely relinquished much to Nick's surprise. "Ah, vintage, 1660?" she guessed.

"Close," he nodded, "1666, a very good year," he laughed.

"I wouldn't let that opinion get out here, LaCroix," Eris raised an elegant eyebrow as she gave the glass back to him.

Feeling increasingly like the third wheel Nick coughed quietly while keeping his back to the flirtatious vampires. "So..." the woman began in a more neutral tone, "This, I presume, is Nicholas? The sleeping prince has finally awoken," she smiled when Nick turned to face her and was he instantly struck by her beauty.

He'd always known that women were a weakness of his and it didn't help that he'd been raised to be chivalrous, but from a single glance at her, Nick knew that even LaCroix would have a difficult time resisting her charms...hers truly was a face that could launch a thousand ships.

"And you are?" he asked.

"Eris Dacca, I'm rather insulted that LaCroix didn't see fit to tell you about me already, what's a lady to think?" she smirked at the younger vampire. "I was the leader of this community," she added.

"Still sour?" LaCroix asked with sarcasm.

"Oh, you have no idea, General," she replied and ran a manicured nail daintily down his face. "But, as they say, what's done is done...it doesn't mean you shouldn't watch your back though."

"I should hope not," he replied and caught her wrist in a tight grip; strong enough to snap a mortals hand off but as a vampire she merely smiled as he let go.

"If my children should cause you any trouble..."

"It won't be the children's heads I remove," LaCroix finished with amusement.

"Good," she nodded, then lightly kissed his cheek and sashayed away, the length of her black dress caressing the floor as she moved.

"She is a fascinating woman," LaCroix said as soon as she vanished from sight.

"A little tetchy," Nick corrected.

"Really?" his father asked, seemingly now taking note of Nick's presence as he took another drink.

"And fiery," Nick added.

"Is there any better kind?"

"I never knew you were a masochist, LaCroix," Nick frowned.

"Oh, Nicholas, when it comes to women, aren't we all?" the older vampire asked and held up his glass.

"...Touché..." Nick sighed as he gently clanged his glass against LaCroix's in toast. "So," he continued after a while, "What's her deal?"

"Isn't it obvious? Her ego has been bruised, I have taken her territory and she knows that she can do nothing about it," LaCroix answered with a smile. "And neither can her little children...I'm sure even you could take them both with one hand, blindfolded and wounded...there's not 300 years between the two of them."

"And how old is she?"

"Around 1,300, I believe; a little more of a challenge for you, so I wouldn't advise irritating her, Nicholas."

"You seem to have irritated her enough for both of us," Nick replied.

"Yes," LaCroix chuckled, clearly pleased with himself.

For a while neither they said anything further, then one of them would strike up a topic and them they would fall silent again. They talked of nothing important, nothing in particular and little of consequence...it was just as it had been before Nick had left. And he had to admit he did tend to miss LaCroix when he was alone; he missed the conversations they had, he missed the days when LaCroix had simply been a friend or a father rather than an enemy. It hadn't been fun having to deal with LaCroix as such, and it wasn't something Nick wanted to repeat again...not because he was afraid for himself, but because he cared for the old vampire.

Natalie would probably tell him that he was being ridiculous; that it was only loneliness that was drawing him back to his master, but Nick didn't think it was. He'd been alone before in the last century and it hadn't had this same affect...whatever the reason, whether it was simply a culmination of the last few years or not, Nick was rather content. Well, as content as he could be with Janette gone, both his partners gone and his best friend also gone...by his own hand...

Nick sighed, as once more the melancholy took over and he lowered the glass he'd just been about to drink from. He had killed Natalie. His best friend...and he'd killed her...he hadn't meant to...but he had. He truly was a monster.

He closed his eyes against the guilt and rubbed his temples furiously as though trying to work away the memories from his mind with the action. But it was no use, he couldn't stop thinking about it...about her. So he got to his feet quickly, startling LaCroix in the process, and he made his way across the club.

He practically flew out of the building and into the empty street; it had started to rain sometime in the night and it was now a veritable downpour, so people had taken shelter while Nick stood alone in the shadows as the rain soaked his clothes. Nick fell back against the wall of the building and looked up at the sky; the rain fell in his eyes and dripped down his hair and flowed across his shoulders.

Before long, LaCroix followed him and was stood beside Nick holding a black umbrella against the rain, not that it would do Nick much good now. "Something wrong?" the older vampire asked with aparent aloofness.

"...No," Nick sighed.

"You're a terrible liar, Nicholas," LaCroix scoffed. "I know it's not the 'Raven' but I didn't think it was so repellant," he added dryly after a minute. LaCroix sighed to himself when he failed to provoke a response from his son, "You are confused, you need time, and you know what will happen if you don't release this guilt."

"How can I?"

"By admitting that you made a mistake and that you've learned from it," the former General replied, "You know that abstaining from human blood will not make you mortal yourself. It will make you weak and hungry and susceptible, which leads to mistakes . You must accept what you are if you wish to move forwards."

"I don't know how to...I don't think I ever did," Nick muttered quietly.

"There were times when you weren't always repulsed by what we are," LaCroix said, "We are not the monsters you believe us to be, Nicholas, we are merely more highly evolved than mortals."

Nick said nothing as he listened to his master speak; he didn't really believe what LaCroix said, of course. He didn't believe that vampires were above mortals, after all, without mortals where would vampires be? Mortals didn't need anything from vampires, but vampires needed a lot from mortals; their art, literature, theatres, and of course, their blood sustained vampires in every respect. So how were vampires more evolved that mortals if they still relied on them for so much?

"You are no monster, Nicholas," LaCroix said to him with confidence, "You make mistakes but that doesn't mean you should be repulsed."

Despite his intention not to, Nick found himself calming just at LaCroix's voice; there was something about its cadence that had always made both him and Janette feel safe. And Nick wanted to believe LaCroix; that of course didn't help his resistance either.

"I killed her," Nick said quietly.

"You made a mistake, she knew the risks did she not? You cannot blame yourself for everything..."

"But I did it!"

"A century and more of repressed hunger and rage, combined with her tenacity and stupidity didn't help your situation," LaCroix nodded. "But you will move on, we are survivors, you and I; nothing keeps us down for long."

Nick sighed again as he realised that there was a truth in that line; despite everything that happened to him, he always seemed to find the strength to go on...somehow.

"Now come," LaCroix turned back to the club, "I'm sure that you..."

"No..." Nick protested before his master walked back through the door. At seeing his son still standing in the rain, seemingly refusing to enter the club LaCroix frowned in confusion before Nick explained. "No, I just want somewhere quieter."

"Very well, then we'll go home," LaCroix shrugged as he walked back towards Nick.

"Why are you doing this?" The younger vampire couldn't help but ask.

"Believe it or not, Nicholas, not everything has to have an ulterior motive," LaCroix said, "You used to enjoy spending time with me."

"People change," Nick said with a hint of sadness. He did indeed remember the joy he used to feel when his father chose to spend time with him, but then Nick had changed and it had felt impossible to connect with LaCroix who refused to listen to Nick's new ideas. People - except LaCroix - changed.

"Yes," LaCroix sighed deeply, "They do...and then some really don't," he added with a smile, clearly knowing what Nick was thinking and the younger vampire couldn't help but give a small smile of his own as the two made their way through the rainy London streets.

* * *

A.N. I just wanted to thank the people actually leaving reviews; they really do brighten my night :) So a big thank you to Twin Rivers, Steppah, Mary Craig and N.L.F. I hope you liked the chapter.


	6. Questionable Refuge

**CHAPTER 5: Questionable Refuge.**

* * *

As he regarded his son's sleeping form LaCroix's mind wandered back through the centuries to the last time that Nick had actually trusted him enough to be so vulnerable in his company. It was of course unsurprising that it had been a very long time ago.

After leaving the club he had brought Nicholas home and they had played chess; he had been slightly dismayed that his son had allowed his skills to rust. LaCroix had taught his son the game himself, claiming that it was a trait of the civilised to understand such a masterful art. He knew, that as a soldier himself, Nick appreciated the strategic game, as LaCroix also did.

But luckily Nick's knowledge of chess gradually returned to him and after three very easy defeats he managed to check his father in the fourth...but of course he sill lost. LaCroix never went easy on anyone, even his son, if he did how would the boy ever learn?

During their fifth game LaCroix could sense his son's increasing weariness and before the general had even said 'checkmate', Nicholas had fallen asleep on the sofa. As LaCroix hazed fondly down at his sleeping son his eyes landed on the chess set once more and he thought back to one of the first times he'd used it in this city, since his move here.

* * *

_**3 weeks ago...**_

_During his first week in London and with only a comatose Nicholas for company LaCroix often found himself with Eris, despite their rather disastrous first meeting, her frankness and bravery in his presence was something he'd only seen his children display and it intrigued him. And of course, it helped that she was so beautiful, for what man, living or un-living, could resist the company of such a siren?_

_He was sat in his living room with said siren as they both pondered over the chess set in the flickering candlelight; they hadn't moved since sundown and it was now a mere hour before dawn._

_"So...why did you move here?" Eris asked him as she elegantly moved a chess piece across the board._

_"For your enchanting company, my dear," LaCroix grinned at her and she rolled her eyes in a very dignified manner._

_"Did it have something to do with this Nicholas I've been told about?" she asked with a hidden look of fear. She'd refrained from asking about the Genral's son but her curiosity was insatiable._

_"Who told you about him?" he snapped._

_"The Enforcers," she answered, "You know they really detest him, he's on thin ice...very thin. The Enforcers don't like anyone, but it's never good when they hate a person so much."_

_"No," LaCroix agreed._

_"Where is he?"_

_"Convalescing," the older vampire said._

_"Was he injured? Was that why you moved?"_

_"So inquisitive tonight," LaCroix glanced at her curiously, "But no, he is not injured, he is in mourning...for a mortal and possibly his raison d'etre for the past century."_

_"I don't understand."_

_"Nicholas..." LaCroix began to explain, "Desired to become mortal."_

_"Check," Eris said with a smile looking down at the board. "I take it then, that his quest has been unsuccessful."_

_"Oh yes," LaCroix nodded, "And most distressing."_

_"What brought something like that on?"_

_"I'm not even sure, even after all this time...checkmate," LaCroix replied and with the game finally over, she leaned back in her chair and stretched her muscles with a look of defeat._

_"Decimated again, you know, just once you could give me one victory," Eris sighed as she regarded the chess board. "It really is embarrassing to lose so many games in only a week...I do hope this doesn't continue...but I suppose you won't show a little chivalry to a lady?"_

_"That is not in my nature," he said._

_"No, I didn't think so," she smiled, "Didn't they teach it in Rome?"_

_"Not to me."_

_"What a pity," she said and stood from the table. She walked across to the fire place and stared into the flames. "So, why tell me about your son's little quest? Surely you'd be embarrassed about it. The great General's son, a powerful force in his own right, wanting to 'go native' with the mortals..I know I certainly would've..." she chuckled but was cut short when LaCroix flew across the room and held her slender throat in a vice-like grip._

_"Not one more word...my dear," he said slowly and she nodded. He slowly released her neck and took a step back._

_"Any chance I could meet him? For such a cold hearted man as you to care about someone so much, he must be a remarkable person," she said after a minute._

_"And you know me so well after a mere week do you?"_

_"I think so, I've known many like you before, you are all no different from each other," she waved a dismissive hand before clasping them both behind her back in an outdated formal posture._

_"Neither are attractive women," LaCroix replied._

_"We're ten a penny," she shrugged nonchalantly._

_"Indeed," he said sarcastically and they fell silent again. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, it was more the kind where nothing needed to be said._

_LaCroix found it strange that he had so much in common with this woman, and how she did indeed know him well after only a week, but this had happened before. As it had with Nicholas and Janette, sometimes there were people with whom a person could relate to without complication._

_"It's almost dawn," Eris said, ruining the silence. She walked out of the room, pausing in the doorway and spoke quietly again, "Good day, General," she said succinctly and flew quickly back to her home, leaving LaCroix in silence once more._

* * *

**Present...**

Shaking the memory away, LaCroix carried Nick from the sofa and up to his room; to sleep so deeply the younger vampire must indeed be in need of rest.

He made his was through the old house which was a sturdy but beautiful model of Victorian aesthetics; perfectly symmetrical with sash windows, dark bricks and white wood work. Inside, however, it had been fitted with a host of expense modern consciences which had considerably affected the market price...this of course had no bearing on LaCroix's decision to buy the house.

He'd chose it for its location; simple. It was almost in the direct centre of his new community which would allow him to coordinate the vampires living in his city. It was a strategic advantage which he hadn't been able to ignore. It was a wealthy area so the mortals surrounding him wouldn't ask questions about their 'eccentricities' which surfaced only at night, and with a son who attracted trouble like Nicholas did, that could only work in their favour.

He placed Nick in his bed but suddenly, LaCroix felt the nagging sense of vampires in his home...vampires standing right behind him.

As he turned to face the intruders he sighed, "What do you want?" he demanded of them. It was the two Enforcers that had eased his transition into his new territory; when a vampire as old as he switched cities it was always overseen, usually from afar, by the Enforcers. But because his son had caused them so much trouble, they now took a more up close and personal approach, one that LaCroix was not happy about.

"If he so much as breathes the wrong way, you know we have the authority to end him," the first one said, getting straight to the point.

"You have no such authority, that right is mine!" LaCroix hissed and took a step back towards his sleeping son.

"Not when it concerns the secrecy of our kind, we cannot jeopardise everything that has been so carefully hidden because of one fool," the second Enforcer said without emotion.

"I know it would give you great pleasure to end Nicholas yourselves," LaCroix said, "However, that is the right of his master, and he has made no threat to your precious Code to date."

"Not yet," said the two Enforcers in unison as they grinned.

"And you do realise, of course," the General added slowly, realising that he was risking his own safety, "That as his master, I am responsible for his safety," he finished as he sensed Nicholas begin to stir.

Evidently the Enforcers could sense the same thing as they simply nodded grimly and then flew from the building; their threat delivered and understood.

LaCroix turned back to Nicholas who was now sitting upright in the bed and looking around curiously. "You fell asleep," LaCroix explained to him, "Losing so many games in quick succession must take its toll."

"Funny," Nick muttered. "...Thought I heard something..."

"Yes, your snoring," his master replied with humour.

"...I don't snore."

"How would you know?" LaCroix asked quickly and Nick sighed in defeat, "Good day, Nicholas," he said with finality and left the room, closing the door behind him.

In relief LaCroix smiled to himself; if the Enforcers dared to threaten his son again...and in the very presence of said son, then there would be hell to pay. He probably should tell Nicholas about it, if only to keep him safe, but LaCroix didn't want Nick to even think about becoming mortal again and this would only bring it to the front of his mind; it wasn't as though his wayward son needed any encouragement.

Returning to his own room, LaCroix took up a book and started to read by candlelight, despite the fact that he could read perfectly well in the dark, it was the gentle ambience which the candles provided that he preferred.

Though he was loath to admit it, he was rather concerned. If Nicholas continued with his mortal quest then it was likely he would be killed by the Enforcers. And though he was well respected and powerful, if set against the entire league of Enforcers, LaCroix wasn't sure he would survive, let alone his son. This incessant concern made it extremely difficult to concentrate on his book, and he was well aware that he had been staring at the same page now for well over 10 minutes. But he couldn't help it, it was infuriatingly mortal the way this concern wouldn't leave him be.

This incessant concern made it extremely difficult to concentrate on his book, and he was well aware that he had been staring at the same page now for well over 10 minutes. But he couldn't help it, it was infuriatingly mortal the way this concern wouldn't leave him be. Nicholas had been a source of concern for LaCroix for almost 800 years now if he was honest, ever since the child had first confessed to his qualms of killing, of his fear of the darkness in him and of his desire to return to the mortal world. But LaCroix didn't regret making his son a vampire; he never had and he never would, he just wished that Nick would focus on what he was rather than what he wanted to be...it would make things so much easier.

Being a vampire wasn't a bad thing, it wasn't to be shunned and despised and Nick hadn't always hated what he was, LaCroix could recall times when his son was rather quite pleased to be a vampire…but then, of course it would usually be followed by intense years of brooding and sulking. At first this dichotomy had amused him, after a while it became a mild concern and then as more time passed it became down right distressing.

LaCroix sighed heavily, then slammed the book closed and tossed it onto the desk; he simply couldn't concentrate on the printed word right now. Instead, he opened a drawer in the same wooden desk, and took out an old silver pocket watch. He didn't usually become emotionally attached to objects; in fact he discouraged his children from doing so. But there were two objects he prized above all; Divia's 2,000 year old cameo necklace, and the pocket watch that Nicholas had given back to him over a year ago.

For some reason he had nothing of Janette's - except the portrait she left, to remember her by. Perhaps it was because she too had never become as emotionally attached to mere things like him, or perhaps it was because she had always stayed loyal and he hadn't needed anything to remember her by.

He'd been thinking about once more, returning the pocket watch back to its rightful owner for some months now. As he opened the watch he read the inscription for the hundredth time, LaCroix realised how that 'forever' had come close to ending, how close he had come to actually ending it himself...had he done as his son intended.

Nick had always been rash, and LaCroix liked to think he acted as the voice of reason...the voice of reason that would make sure his wayward some didn't end that 'forever' himself.

* * *

As Nick slept deeply he dreamed just as deeply; he dreamed of a night long, long ago, of a night that changed his life. He dreamed of a beautiful woman with long black hair who whispered in his ear, and of a man with eyes than shone in shadow. He remembered the offer that had been made to him all those years ago and why it had tempted him so much.

* * *

**Paris 1228...**

_"...Come to me..." LaCroix said as he stood with confidence._

_Nicolas was still leaning back in the bed, curiously eyeing the people before him, people he had seen that weren't actually people at all, he was increasingly intrigued by them. Being offered ten thousand lifetimes was not an offer to be snubbed without thought; it was very tempting. After everything he'd been through in the Holy Land it was more tempting than it would've been to him before leaving for the crusade._

_And this man, LaCroix, was not like any man he'd seen before; he had eyes that shone like a demons in the dark, and pointed teeth to match. Even the mysterious beauty of the woman who was clearly LaCroix's companion, was otherworldly. They both were._

_Was this something to be feared? Should he run from this? Part of him desperately wanted to run away from the fear of what he saw in this dark room...but the other side of him found this offer more intriguing by the second._

_"If I did...what exactly...would I become?" he asked._

_"...Un enfant de la nuit ... un buveur de sang ... un immortel ...mon fils..." LaCroix answered enigmatically. (A child of the night...a drinker of blood...an immortal...my son.)_

_"Pourquoi moi?" (Why me?)_

_"So many questions," LaCroix chuckled, "This is not something to decline; it is a gift which I offer to you, and you alone...croyez-moi, mon fils." (...Trust me, my son.)_

_Nicolas stared back, holding LaCroix's gaze as, with each passing second, the protests and fears in his mind grew quieter and quieter until they fell completely silent. Why should he not do something selfish for once? After everything he'd endured in battle wasn't he entitled to a reward? He clearly wasn't going to get one from either God or his lord, so why should he not seek one himself?_

_"What must I do?" he asked, now without doubt._

_"You?" LaCroix grinned and walked over to him, "You must do nothing, it is what I must do, that you should question," he finished. But before Nicolas could ask anything further, LaCroix leaned over him and he felt a sharp pain in his neck._

_It felt similar to being stabbed and being powerless to halt the blood flow from the open wound as life left the body, and yet there was a sense of euphoria that was not present during such a wound, it was almost a heightened sense of pleasure. It was difficult to describe. But nothing else mattered anymore. Nothing else was important to him any longer. All that existed was LaCroix and him...there was nothing else._

_He gripped LaCroix's shoulder as he felt the man bite deeper into his skin, and something told him he should be worried by the fact that he was willingly letting this stranger, whom he'd met only moments ago, drink his very blood without much explanation. But after all he'd been through, Nicolas didn't think much of life anymore. And there was something about these people that drew him to them...something about this ridiculously unusual situation felt right._

_As he started to feel weaker LaCroix lowered him back down onto the bed just before the lights from the candles started to fade, the dark masonry around him started to lose focus and the sounds of his breathing grew weaker and weaker...then he saw a bright, white light._

* * *

**Present...**

Nick sat upright in his bed as he breathed heavily; he felt clammy and flustered. He wiped the blood-sweat from his forehead as he worked to control his breathing, and in reminiscence, he gripped the side of his neck where LaCroix had bitten him so long ago. He hadn't dreamt about that night in quite a while now, so why he hand done so now was a mystery to him.

He could still see the light that had blinded him in his dream; his eyes hurt and there were small, white spots in his line of sight, blinding him. Eventually, his sight returned to normal and he glanced around, what was slowly becoming a familiar room to him.

Though the room was in darkness he knew that it was daylight outside; he could sense it.

There was something about the window that was calling to him, almost like a sirens song, he could hear a man's voice, it was so familiar. So, Nick slid out from under the covers and slowly approached the nearest window, listening for the voice to speak clearly.

"Nicolas..." it called, speaking his name of old.

"Who's there?" he demanded as he neared the thick curtains.

"Nicolas...mon fils..." the voice whispered. (Nicolas...my son...) And now, Nick knew why it was so familiar, it was not LaCroix's voice...but it was so heart-felt...it was his father's - his mortal father's voice, the father who died 800 years ago.

"Père?" he questioned. (Father?)

"Oui, mon fils," was the disembodied reply. (Yes, my son.)

"Qu'est-ce ..." he tried to ask, but he found that he couldn't finish, he was frozen in front of the window. (What...) He knew that beyond the close curtains, for him, lay only death, but the voice - his father - spoke again.

"Venez à moi, Nicolas, vous libérer de cette malédiction..." the voice said, "Viens ici ... viens maintenant ... vite, vite ... avant que le sombre retours...vite...Venez à moi..." it continued. (Come to me, Nicolas, free yourself from this curse...Come here...come now...quickly, quickly...before the dark one returns...quickly...Come to me...)

Ignoring the part of his mind that was telling him not to, Nick gripped the curtains and took a deep breath. There were so many questions he should ask about this...was this really his father...his mortal father had died when he was a child and he'd never really taken an active parenting role; things were different back then. But Nick believed that his father had loved him.

It was strange now to call another man 'father' when LaCroix had filled that position for so long, even when Nick was estranged from his master he couldn't deny that LaCroix was a father to him. What would he say about this?

Nick could just picture the Roman telling him that this was all in his mind, that it was all because of his guilt, and that this was very dangerous. He was standing at the edge of a very tall cliff with no parachute, or floating out in the sea with no life jacket. All that was protecting him from death right now was the black out curtains...in a way it was quite thrilling.

He looked down at his hands clutching the curtains and watched as they quivered; it felt as though his body was at war with itself. One half wanting to open them and see what was behind, and the other half that wanted to hide from the sun deep under the covers of his bed in nice, safe darkness.

But the urge to see beyond was too strong, like there was someone else in his mind screaming at him to leap, to jump...to look.

...So...without another thought, he drew open the curtains and felt the early morning sun on his 800 year old skin. He felt his skin burn and singe and smoke as the daylight instantly permeated his clothes in a truly painful moment.

He could no longer hear his father's voice...all that mattered was the pain, the blinding agony of death. Nick instinctively tried to move away from the light, but he found that he was frozen to the spot; he couldn't even blink...what was going on? Was this really in his mind? Was it merely a trick of his conscience? He'd never felt his body freeze like this because of his mind before, but what else could it be?

Nick felt his world start to fade away, but before everything went black, he could've sworn he heard another voice calling out to him. He thought he felt a hand on his shoulder...but maybe that was just his imagination as well, because a second later, he felt nothing at all.


	7. An Old Resurgence

**CHAPTER 6: An Old Resurgence**

* * *

Alone in his room, LaCroix held Nick's old silver pocket watch loosely in his palm as he watched the candlelight flicker across its polished surface in the shadows. Sometimes it was nice just to be alone with ones memories and thoughts - and when a person was as old as he was, there were lots of memories and thoughts, so time could pass very quickly without much notice.

This time, however, he wasn't pulled from his solitary reverie of his own accord, but by a sudden, overwhelming sense of isolation and fear. His son's fear that almost drowned him in its abruptness and it was nothing short of pure dread.

Nicholas...something was wrong with his son...he could feel his son's distress...his anxiety...his confusion and above all, his fear. Because he had been feeding the younger vampire for most of the past month with his own blood, LaCroix's connection to his son was stronger than it had been in well over a century, so he could feel Nick's emotions as though they were his own. He usually tuned them out, but right now it would be impossible since his son was screaming in his mind.

At once, LaCroix pocketed the watch and flew out of the room, through the corridor and into his son's room. As he forced open the door the light from the sun instantly assaulted his senses, LaCroix hissed as he felt his skin start to burn. He shielded his eyes and moved into the shadows of the large room then he found Nick stood directly in front of the source of the light.

"Nicholas?!" he called but his son didn't answer. In fact he didn't even move a muscle. It was like he was frozen to the spot, holding the curtains open and forced to stand before the light as his skin smouldered and burned.

LaCroix suddenly heard a quiet chuckling, and he felt a subtle presence leave the room. What it meant he didn't know, and he didn't have the time to think on it. He approached Nick directly, ignoring the sunlight, he pulled the younger vampire away from the window and threw him into the shadows.

As he quickly dragged the curtains closed once more, he was able to look for the strange presence, but it was gone completely. It had felt old and cruel...perhaps this had been some kind of murder attempt. LaCroix desperately tried to find it, but all he could sense in the house was his son. He would need to look into it later.

Nick groaned as he tried to pry open his eyes. He felt as though he were slowly regaining control of his body again and it was not a pleasant experience. He held a hand to his face and tenderly touched the aching skin on his forehead; he was lucky to be alive, another few seconds and he probably would've gone up in flames.

"Nicholas?" LaCroix said quietly as he knelt down beside his son who didn't seem to have the energy left to even sit up. His skin was scorched and burned and in parts it was peeling away from his face and hands. LaCroix gently took Nick's wrist and moved it away from his son's face; he was only further aggravating the burns, but he was too out of it to notice.

LaCroix quickly tore into his own wrist and let the blood trickle into Nick's mouth, then with all the control of a dying animal, the younger vampire violently bit into his master's skin. He gripped LaCroix's wrist with such force that his nails drew more blood which fell onto his skin, working to heal the blistering burns.

While LaCroix stifled a wince at this, he held the younger vampire against him as Nick continued to drink from his wrist with increasing fervour. Had he been human, the old General was certain that his hand would've been sawn from his limb by his hungry child. He'd not seen his son so primal in many centuries, but he supposed that exposure to direct sunlight as the vampire had just experienced would have that effect.

With his other hand, LaCroix ran his fingers through his son's hair, careful not to touch the flaking skin of his forehead as he did so, in an attempt to calm him. The old vampire was relived to see that, slowly, the wounds on his son's skin were beginning to close up and fade away, but Nick didn't show any signs of letting his wrist go, or of loosening his tight grip. Instead he felt Nick's teeth contiune to bite into his wrist deeply enough as to reach the tendons.

"Nicholas, stop!" he repeated and tried to rouse his son, "Écoutez-moi!" he ordered. (Listen to me!)

Luckily, Nick was healing enough to be able to hear him through the blood lust and he loosened his grip, then very slowly he raised his head from LaCroix's wrist. He stared into his master's stern gaze and finally pushed the bleeding limb away. Nick felt better, a lot better, but he still doubted his ability to get up; he could still feel the burning from the sun and he probably would for a while.

"He was here..." Nick finally spoke as he looked down at the bloody mess he'd made of LaCroix's wrist; he grimaced as he saw bones.

"Who?" LaCroix asked, clearly not bothered about his open wound.

"My father...he was here..."

"What do you mean, your father?" LaCroix frowned, clearly not liking the idea of Nick regarding anyone else as a father other than him.

"...My mortal father..." Nick muttered with a nod. "...I heard his voice..."

"In a dream?"

"No," Nick insisted, "It was real, he was here...outside..."

"There is no one here."

"But there was!"

"Perhaps," LaCroix sighed, "Perhaps there was something here, but I very much doubt that it was your mortal father."

"You felt it too?"

"I sensed something, yes," LaCroix answered with reluctance. But Nick looked relieved that he hadn't been imaging it all.

"It was outside...I tried, I couldn't stop myself," Nick said, "I swear it wasn't a dream," he added with confidence.

"I know," LaCroix nodded. It was easier than arguing the point, since he was sure he'd sensed something too, but he couldn't do anything about it yet.

Meanwhile, the nagging pain he felt in his wrist was not going away; he'd let Nick have too much of his blood for it to heal without help. So he used his other fingers to wipe away a trickle of blood left on Nick's mouth to start the process; it was after all his blood.

"I...erm..." Nick said quietly as he once more took in the almost shredded mess, revealing bone and tendon and muscle.

"Really, Nicholas, I've had far worse from you," LaCroix gave a rueful smile, and Nick was quickly silenced. When he saw that the wound was showing little sign of closing up, Nick drew blood from his own wrist, held it over his master's, and watched the blood mix as the wound began healing itself.

"LaCroix, what was it?" Nick asked, genuinely scared as he moved his wrist and licked the blood to heal the wound.

"I don't know," he answered, "Whatever it was, it clearly wasn't benign."

"That's for sure."

"Are you sure you didn't see anything?"

"I just heard a voice, and I couldn't stop myself from opening the curtains...he said he wanted me to 'free myself'," Nick said, "Could it really have been..."

"Ghosts do not exist," LaCroix interrupted him. He felt that this could be Nick's imagination, it could all be in his mind...possibly.

"Then what was it?" Nick asked, but he didn't get an answer because LaCroix had none to give. Instead of answering, LaCroix stretched out his fingers on his right hand, testing the newly healed skin before he pulled Nick to his feet.

Nick stood with LaCroix's help and on weak legs, he walked back over to the edge of the bed and sat down. He looked down at the skin on his hands and was relieved to see that it was mostly helped; there was some small red patches left and it was still tender to the touch. Despite taking so much of his master's blood, Nick felt his heavy eyes start to close and he fought against them. He didn't want to sleep, of he did he'd dream and then he'd wake up to hear the voice again, and he couldn't expect LaCroix to watch him 24/7 like he was a child.

"Go to sleep, Nicholas," LaCroix told him, looking directly at his son.

Nick wasn't happy about how tired he kept feeling lately, but it wasn't as though he could do anything about it. "No," he replied, "I can't, I need to find out what..."

"You're tired, go to sleep," LaCroix ordered hypnotically and though Nick initially resisted, he succumbed to the suggestion.

Vampires didn't tend to use their hypnotic suggestion on other vampires because it didn't last long, and as a general rule, it went against the few laws that they had, but because LaCroix was so old he could have much more of an effect; especially when he connection to his child was so strong, Nick didn't have a change really. It wouldn't last the whole day, of course, but by the time it wore off, hopefully Nick would be sleeping due to his body's will, rather than LaCroix's.

During which it would give him time to think. Nick hadn't given him much to go on; a strong, evil presence, a disembodied voice that could mimic whomever it chose, and a very, very strong will power which it could force on others. His son was by no means weak-willed, and for such a young vampire in comparison to LaCroix, Nicholas was extremely powerful, so it was no mean feat to literally hypnotise him to commit suicide.

Granted that Nick was in a fragile state right now, and using the voice of his mortal father would play on his 'emotions,' but it still shouldn't have been so easy. To hypnotise his son, with whom he had a strong blood connection, to sleep for a few hours was one thing, but to force him to stand in sunlight was completely ridiculous. It would take an immense power to do that and it worried LaCroix - gods help him, but it did. He had a hard enough time protecting Nicholas from himself as it was, but now what was he supposed to do?

He walked pensively around the room, lighting the candles that lay on every surface as he did so, them he quickly went to his own room, bringing his book, a bottle of blood and a wine glass. Then, LaCroix lit the modest-sized fireplace on the far wall and sat on one of the two arm chairs in front of it; he couldn't risk leaving Nick and having the same thing happen again. It wasn't worth the risk.

Frustratingly, his thoughts turned constantly to a strange incident that for some reason he couldn't force from his mind at the moment. It was one of many questionable advantages of being so old was that he'd seen, and heard so much. He hadn't wanted to tell Nick about it just yet, but the clearer the memory became, the more difficult it became to ignore it.

It was the only other time he'd ever even had an inkling about such a power as this, and it had been a very, very long time ago...

* * *

**_England, 1071..._**

_"Damn Frenchmen!" murmered a group of intoxicated men. A dozen of them, all battle toughened warriors sat by the roaring fire of a crowded tavern in mid winter. All ready to stir up trouble with the opposing group of French fighters on the other side of the mis-matched, ill-fitted room._

_"Think they own the place!" spat another man._

_"I believe we do," chuckled one of the French men with a heavy accent, and of course a tavern brawl - an age old scene, erupted, throwing the whole building into glorious chaos._

_The thousand year old LaCroix observed the scene with a look of amusement from his seat at the edge of the room; even after all this time he still found the acts of human folly to be most entertaining._

_"Aren't they ludicrous?" he heard a voice ask him and so he turned to face the speaker who he could already sense was a vampire, a vampire much older than him. Which would explain why the man was able to mask his presence._

_"Indeed," LaCroix nodded as the other vampire sat beside him. He looked to be around 30 years of age and was dressed in the finest fabrics of the day of an English Lord, perhaps he was one of the few to escape the chaotic transition caused by the French victory years earlier, and just happened to be a vampire. It would be easy to decieve and hypnotise the French into leaving him alone._

_"I am called Geoffrey," the man said, "I own the estate north of here."_

_"LaCroix," he introduced himself and shook the man's hand._

_"It has been a long time since I saw one of our kind here, usually the young ones stay away."_

_"Why is that?" LaCroix asked._

_"Have you not heard the stories? They say a pious Frenchman took residence in the east manor and hunts down demons like us."_

_"That is not the first time I have heard such tales, but mortals cannot touch us, or the children so long as we are wise."_

_"Children don't often consult wisdom," Geoffrey answered, "I heard that three young ones travelled to test this French 'slayer' and never returned. It is rather strange though, I myself have felt unusual sensations from the manor, and even I keep my distance."_

_LaCroix raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and a while later, after growing tired of the brawl he left the tavern followed by Geoffrey. "It was pleasant to observe sport with you, perhaps we should do so again and for an interesting wager, although I am disinclined to back the French. Though I may be two and a half thousand years old I did prefer this country run by Anglo-Saxons; perhaps I involve myself in mortal society too much," the vampire said._

_"Hmm," LaCroix hummed, "I care for neither."_

_"Did you fight?"_

_"I did not," the Roman scoffed, "I fight for no man but myself."_

_"A pity, you could've been a great asset to us," added the patriotic Geoffrey._

_"As you say," LaCroix sighed and made to leave on his way._

_"Good day, my friend," Geoffrey called after him with a chuckle._

_One night later, LaCroix sat in the same tavern observing another, more brutal brawl between the new French nobility and the defeated Anglo-Saxon peasantry. He'd been expecting the older vampire to join him, but when the night passed without a sign of him, LaCroix grew curious. So, a few hours before dawn he flew to the estate belonging to Geoffrey and at once he sensed something._

_He entered the house and he could immediately smell the blood, lots of blood; the first of it was human. Intrigued, LaCroix sought out the source and found the servants and residents of the estate all dead, drained of their blood and mangled beyond recognition. When he moved further into the manor he found a stairway leading under the so he followed it and he found Geoffrey, the Lord of the manor, one of the few remaining of the old Anglo-Saxon nobility, dead. Only not dead as a mortal would expect; he'd not been stabbed or shot with an arrow or beaten to death._

_...He'd been burned in the sunlight in his own cellar._

_The stone room was constructed almost like a chapel, but it appeared to be in use as a storage room for food and wine, and probably used by the vampire during the day. However, there were several small windows at the top of the walls that corresponded with the outside and someone had opened them. Now they let in the moonlight, but yesterday morning it would've been deadly sunlight._

_Geoffrey's remains were lying directly where the light would've been strongest as though he'd walked into it himself. LaCroix could hardly imagine this vampire committing suicide. It was very strange._

_For the next few minutes he searched for a sign of what might've done this, but perhaps Geoffrey had done the deed himself and then killed himself...but it seemed awfully out of character for the proud vampire he'd met just yesterday. All LaCroix could sense was a vague and weakening presence of pure evil as he looked down once more at the vampires' corpse._

_It was none of his business and it would mean more trouble for him if he stayed, so LaCroix flew off quickly before the dawn could take him. His subsequent travels took him to Paris and after what - or rather 'who' he found there, made sure that he had neither the time or the inclinations to think about that strange night in England again..._

* * *

**Present...**

Now that he thought about it though, the more similar those presences had felt; vampires had outstanding memories for such things. But why, if it was the same thing - whatever that was, would it go after Nicholas? Why would it attempt to murder his son? Had it followed LaCroix and was trying to get to him via Nick? Or had Nick irritated some old evil and it had followed him instead? It just didn't make any sense whatsoever, and that irritated LaCroix to no end.

As the day passed he didn't set a foot out of Nick's room, he sat and concentrated his senses on the whole street but he felt nothing unusual all day. Neither did he sense the indescribable feeling of darkness that he had felt before. So what was he supposed to do? Should he tell Nick about what little he'd seen before?

It was around sunset when Nick finally started to show signs of awakening. LaCroix could feel his son both through their connection and because his senses were spread out all across such a vast area, he knew that Nick was slowly beginning to feel the returning discomfort the daylight had done to him. He could feel his son's still tingling skin a though it had been his own that had been burned. It was really not a good idea to keep up an intense connection for a long period of time but LaCroix liked the idea of keeping their connection so strong; he liked the idea of having his son as part of his senses and he was sure that Nick appreciated the security of being connected to one as old as he.

LaCroix could feel Nick continue to stir and the younger vampire groaned as he woke, sighing as the light from the burning candles filtered through his eyelids. He had no idea how long he'd been sleeping for, but he could tell that the candles had been burning for a considerable length of time: the smell and the atmosphere both clearly demonstrated that. It wasn't unpleasant by any means once his eyes quickly adjusted; in fact it was very nostalgic. It reminded him of when he was a child and he often illuminated a whole room to stay awake at night to read and to dream up far away places, much to the chagrin of the servants when they saw the amount he candles he wasted.

It also reminded him of when he was older and he stayed awake at nights to think. On those nights he'd ponder the estate, of how he would keep the family well kept and how best to deal with certain issues. After his father's death when he was a child his mother had been fraught with worry for him because as the only male in the family he'd inherited his father's position.

Nick smiled ruefully at how simple candlelight could bring back so many memories in such clarity, it was rather unnerving.

He glanced across the room and saw LaCroix leaning back in one of the armchairs before the burning fire, a book in hand and a wine glass on the coffee table next to him.

"How do you feel, Nicholas?" he heard LaCroix ask with turning to look at him; the man was still reading his book with an air of almost nonchalant contentedness.

"Fantastic," Nick relied with sarcasm.

"Good," LaCroix replied with equal humour as he closed his book and placed it on the table then picked up his half empty wine glass and bottle. He filled the glass from the bottle and walked across to Nick then offered it to him. Nick took it without a word and drained it within seconds. "Nothing has entered or left the house all day," LaCroix said when he was done.

"Except this morning," Nick frowned.

"Correct," LaCroix nodded.

"And you're sure you've never seen anything like this before?"

"Once perhaps," the older vampire told him, "I saw work that could be attributed to something very much like this around a thousand years ago. I don't know of many lorded vampires perfectly contended one night who then commit a mass murder and then kill themselves by sunlight the next."

"Was it the same?"

"I couldn't say for sure; I only saw the aftermath, but I did sense something alike in both instances," LaCroix answered. "I don't believe that this is your imagination at work this time, Nicholas."

"I'm glad to hear it," Nick sighed.

"Perhaps you shouldn't be."

"...Why would something like this come after me?" Nick asked quietly but LaCroix didn't answer straight away. Instead he removed the empty glass from his son's hand and refilled it again, he took a drink himself before giving it back to Nick.

"I don't know, Nicholas," he admitted; the fact that he didn't know irked him to no end. "But I know of someone that might."


	8. The Vampire Archivist

**CHAPTER 7: The Vampire Archivist.**

* * *

LaCroix quickly told Nick that there was a young vampire of about 60 years of age, who was the modern equivalent of a medieval archivist living on the outskirts of the London community. His birth name was Michael Santos and he had been brought across at age 19, subsequently abandoned by his master and left to find his own way. Many vampires turned and abandoned so quickly and at such a young age didn't tend to survive their first year, however this one had, and perhaps his oddities could be attributed to his young age when he had been brought across...or he was just a strange personality in life and death.

And, once Nick had drained another bottle of blood-wine dry, they left as soon as the sun set.

"So, how'd you know this guy again?" Nick asked.

"I am the leader of this community, it is beneficial to know of anyone who might be of use to me; some call him a genius."

"And what do you call him?"

"Your average teenager with too much time on his hands," LaCroix said quickly.

"If he's not a genius why are we going to him for help?"

"We are not going for 'help', we are going for information."

"Hm-mm, and the part about him being smart?"

"Having never met face to face I can hardly have an opinion on that matter."

"Right," Nick nodded, holding back a laugh because he knew it wouldn't put LaCroix in a good mood.

They flew to the address LaCroix had been given and found that it was a downtrodden house in the suburbs with weeds growing through the front wall and scraps of rubbish caught in them. The windows were unwashed and the sills were even blackened in placed with dirt; all in all it wasn't the nicest looking house in the world. Nick could tell that LaCroix didn't even want to step into the small front garden let alone walk through the front door. But, Nick opened the door anyway, and they stepped into the dark, unfurnished house.

"Hello?" Nick called with a frown.

"Hey!" a voice called back and Nick followed it to a small staircase leading down into a basement ."Come on down, guys, just lemme..." the young vampire called as Nick and LaCroix walked down the stairs.

This 'genius' wasn't exactly what Nick had been expecting, but after spending so much time around mortal geniuses over the years maybe his definition was biased. This genius, rather than working in a candlelit study, was slouching in a cramped basement on a dirty sofa staring at twin tv screens playing a video game.

The basement itself was dark and dank, perfect for a vampire during the day, but why waste the night away in a place like this? Nick could see a large computer set up with six monitors which occupied the far right corner, and most of the junk lying around was mechanical; this vampire was indeed more like a teenager with too much time and money, than a genius.

"Genius, huh?" Nick muttered to LaCroix who gave a long suffering sigh.

"LaCroix, right?" the messy vampire asked with an atrocious attempt at a French accent, "I'll be with you in a sec...I just need to..." he said as he punctuated his words with actions on the video game.

"Now," LaCroix insisted.

"But I..."

"Now!" he repeated and the young one sighed heavily, muttering insults under his breath as he tossed aside his console.

"Right, sure, I'm all yours," he said sarcastically as he stood before them, "So what'd you need?"

"Information," LaCroix answered.

"Oh," he sighed, a little disappointed, "Usually vamps want something a bit more...y'know...vampy..." he explained but when LaCroix growled quietly he jumped and said, "But info's good too, y'know, who doesn't like a good bit of...info?" he laughed nervously as he walked over to his computer. "Just call me Spike the info guy."

"Spike?" Nick repeated with a scoff.

"Yeah, y'know...sounds more vampy than Michael , don't it?" 'Spike' said as though it was obvious.

"I really don't think that..."

"Nicholas," LaCroix sighed, and Nick stopped. He could tell that just being in the presence of this young, ridiculously stereotypical vampire was seriously testing his masters limits.

"So..info...info on what?" he cracked his knuckles over the keyboard.

"Anything on beings that can control vampires and manipulate voices from memory," Nick answered, moving closer to the screen, sensing that LaCroix would not move any further into the dirty room. If the old vampire had known that 'Spike' was as he was then he probably wouldn't have come, he clearly wasn't amused at having such a vampire in his community.

"...That's it...nothing else to go on?" Spike asked.

"It seems to be immortal, with no particular motive, has a strong presence and can come and go as it please regardless of the time of night or day."

"This might take me a while, it's not much to go on y'know," the younger vampire said with a look of nervousness.

"That's fine," Nick said before LaCroix could speak and frighten the child further. "Just get to work," he said kindly, and Spike nodded gratefully. Nick then moved across the room to join LaCroix at the doorway.

"I seem to remember youth showing much more promise than it does in this modern age," his master sighed, and Nick rolled his eyes.

"I can hear you, you know?!" Spike said with insult as he continued to type at his keyboard. LaCroix growled again and Nick out a calming hand on his master's shoulder, stopping him from moving forwards.

"LaCroix," Nick said quietly and he saw LaCroix's eyes flash red for a moment, but he didn't fly at the youth, which was a positive.

"Erm...maybe you guys should...grab a bite...'cos this could take all night and you don't look like the type of guys to play my games while you wait," Spike said pointing across at his tv sets.

"Yes, good idea," Nick nodded, sensing his master's frustration at the younger vampire growing by the second. He quickly found a pen and some paper and wrote down his number, "Call me when you find something," he said putting the paper down on the computer desk, then he more or less led LaCroix out of the basement and out the front door.

"I loathe children with no sense of dignity," the old Roman ground out as Nick closed the door behind them; when using mortal tendencies LaCroix didn't have to deal with trivialities like opening and closing doors when one of his children was around. It was an attitude which Nick was far to used to dealing with to begin questioning after so long, even now.

"He's young, what'd you expect, and this is the technological age, LaCroix, children have to be different, individual, they don't fit in unless they flout authority in some way," Nick replied.

"Please, don't remind me about the ridiculousness of modern youth, Nicholas," the older vampire sighed as Nick chuckled.

"Maybe you should've tried that video game of his after all, I think he was beheading a hoard of mindless zombies when we came in, you might've enjoyed it," Nick smirked when LaCroix groaned in exasperation. "Your age is showing, old man," he laughed.

But then he stopped laughing without warning. Nick was shocked at himself; he'd lost his partner, Tracy, and he'd murdered his most trusted mortal friend just over a month ago and now here he was, back with the father he swore he'd never return to, laughing and joking as they hadn't done in centuries. What right had he to joke and laugh and act carefree when he was a murdering monster?

And to top it all off he'd been almost killed by some kind of voice that could order vampires around, yet he didn't feel threatened at all. Why not? He could remember feeling scared to death when he'd been alone and about to die in the sun...and then he hadn't been afraid; what had happened to change that? Was it simply because he wasn't alone anymore? Was it because his master was with him and hadn't abandoned him despite all that had happened?

No, it couldn't be. It was impossible. Nick had sworn centuries ago that he wasn't like LaCroix, that he didn't want to be in his master's company and that he didn't want his protection...but was all that really true? Had he just been like Spike...like all children? Flouting authority in acts of childish rebellion? He didn't think so, but then he would say that if he was the one doing the rebelling.

Nick sighed as memories of Natalie came back once more and he shook his head to try and rid himself of them; it would drive him mad with guilt, and having been so once already, he didn't want to go back.

"Nicholas?" he heard LaCroix speak, and it worked more effectively to work away the memories than Nick's own attempts had.

"Mm?" Nick questioned, slowly turning to face an unusually concerned looking LaCroix. "What? Oh, right, I suppose you're going to the club," he sighed, anticipating his master's next move for the night, and if past habits were to go by then LaCroix would either hunt down some innocent mortals or, more recently, seduce them in his club. Nick didn't want to be a partisan of either one now that he'd just damped his own good mood, "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather just..."

"Not tonight," LaCroix said quickly, "I'll not watch you brood for one more minute; I have something different in mind, something even you might appreciate," he added enigmatically and flew away, evidently expecting Nick to follow without question, and with little choice left to him, Nick did so.

He followed LaCroix's presence through the suburbs and into the city and was surprised when the old vampire came to a halt in the dark shadows by the Brtish Museum. Nick could sense the people inside and watched as some left the building with tired expressions; it was 7 at night and he'd seen people spend the entire day there before, it was easy to lose track of the hours in such a place.

"And what are we doing here?" Nick asked.

"Apreciating culture, Nicholas," LaCroix replied.

It had been many a decade since Nick had been inside the museum, and he still felt that the beauty of the Parthenon facade, with its pillars in shadow from the light flooding from the doors was one of the most beautiful buildings he'd ever seen; it rivalled the old castles and manors he had grown up amongst, but he supposed nothing was ever as good as home. LaCroix would feel more at home with these buildings than he would. Although why his master had brought him here was beyond him. LaCroix preferred to appreciate culture in the theatres...or by chasing down the local populous and appreciating the 'culture' of their blood, not by visiting museums. In the past they'd been to many an art gallery but Nick knew that seeing objects LaCroix had seen in use in their prime put now on display for all to see, was a touchy subject for the Roman.

LaCroix didn't say anything further as they walked into the building, passing a group of people on the way who smiled at them despite how tired they looked. And Nick was unsurprised when LaCroix showed no signs of paying the fee to get in, after all, in his mind he was older than most things in the museum, why should he have to pay? Nick of course, held back a laugh at the man's face, and just shrugged as he handed the money he found in his wallet over to the woman at the admissions stand; she showed clear signs of relief when LaCroix walked ahead, away from her.

But it didn't matter to Nick that the old Roman paid the fee to get them in, it was more important that he was here, spending time with Nick rather than arguing with him or lying or trying to trick him.

"What right do these mortals have to do this?" LaCroix said, insulted, as he stared up into the motionless, immortal stone eyes of a Roman statue. He was never happy to see the objects of his old Empire displayed for all to see as though they owned them. In fact, Nick could remember many a Roman archeologist turning up dead of mysterious circumstances when LaCroix was around.

"They have every right," Nick replied. "History belongs to the people."

"This isn't history, it's a livelihood, what right have these children to claim it?"

"Well, it's not like you can do anything to change that," Nick answered back much to his master's dismay.

After several hours of wandering the almost deserted rooms of the large building, closing time loomed and they were left without a purpose. As they walked down the steps of the museum, LaCroix frowned and stopped Nick from waking any further by grasping his elbow tightly.

"What?" Nick asked, but he was met with only silence from his master. LaCroix had a curious look on his pale face which Nick recognised all too well; it meant trouble. "There!" Nick pointed out into the shadows, but when he looked again, there was nothing to see. "I thought it was..."

"So did I," LaCroix frowned. He felt as though he were a mouse in a case and he didn't appreciate it at all. He was the cat not the mouse! It was completely degrading being hunted like this. The old general could sense the presence of the malevolent being but he couldn't see it! What was so infuriating was that the presence was growing weaker and weaker as soon as he'd noticed it. This thing was playing games with him!

He could now sense, with greater certainty, his son's confusion. This had unnerved Nicholas greatly, perhaps more so under the present circumstances because his child was still so distressed.

"It is unlikely that it will approach again so soon," he told Nick with confidence; one predictor could understand another no matter how unclear its motives were.

Nick only sighed in response and continued walking down the remaining steps, LaCroix's hand falling from his elbow as he moved out of reach. He had no idea what was happening and he wanted to know why he had almost been killed. Nick really had no problem with the attempt on his life; it was not knowing why that bothered him more. Added to the fact that he had only felt safe when LaCroix had been there, served merely to confuse him all the more.

It wasn't long before LaCroix caught up to him and they continued to walk through the dark streets of the city they'd visited so many times before.

"We will find it, Nicholas, and when we do, we will kill it," LaCroix said, but Nick couldn't help but wonder just who would be killing whom.


	9. En Avant

**CHAPTER 8: En Avant.**

* * *

Nick was sitting alone in the living room, he was twirling his phone in his hand, waiting for the call which he hoped would shed some light on the mystery which he couldn't solve. He needed some answers and he needed them now. He didn't like not knowing why something had tried to kill him and the feeling only worsened with time, it festered like an open wound.

The sounds of Bach's concertos played quietly on the stereo but it did nothing to calm him cluttered thoughts. He had been alone in the house for a while now, LaCroix had left, not stating his destination, however Nick hadn't asked; it was probably best that he didn't know. He was angry and confused, he was irritated and irked all at the same time and it was a vile state to be in. He couldn't help but wonder if he was doing the right thing; he'd sworn never to return to LaCroix and yet here he was, back with LaCroix, acting as though there was no one he trusted more. It was all very irritating.

LaCroix never stopped being a General, the man never once stopped playing his war games, he had to control everything and everyone, and it had driven Nick away from him more than once over the centuries. And now that he was able to see through his grief, Nick found himself remembering all of the times he'd tried to leave his father. None of them had been easy for it was impossible to deny that LaCroix did care for him. LaCroix loved him as a father loved his child. Unlike many vampire masters, LaCroix favourited one of his children over all of the others, and that was one of the reasons which made it so difficult to leave the man.

If Nick was completely honest he did enjoy LaCroix's company, he didn't want to but he did. In Toronto he'd spent as much time at the Raven when LaCroix owned it than when Janette did, when he had questions he looked to LaCroix for answers, and he didn't want it to be like that. He did, in fact, trust the man. Maybe not with simple, meaningless things, but if he was in a fight to the death, there was no one Nick would rather have with him than LaCroix. LaCroix may have questionable ways of showing that he cared but he'd done more than enough recently to prove that he did.

It was very different from the actions of his mortal father who, by all accounts had been a loving father, with no problems about showing that fact. But he had died when Nick had been but a child and he'd had little choice but to find work, despite being from a fairly wealthy family, they'd still needed an income. He could still remember the night his father had died, leaving him the responsibility of caring for the family. The laws of old were ludicrous. Instead of his father's estate falling to mother, they fell to the son, who had been only a child. He could fill recall his mother's face the night he'd told her he would need to work.

She had always been so adamant that she wanted more for him than a working career, but it wasn't mean to be. Nick could remember his father well, but what he remembered most was the night he'd watched him die. No man should be remembered for how they died, but to a child, it was that which weighed most heavily.

* * *

_**Brabant, 1214...**_

_"Vous devez me promettre ... vous devez prendre soin de votre mère et votre sœur. Ils sont votre responsabilité maintenant, mon fils," the dying man spoke quietly. (You must promise me...you must take care of your mother and your sister. They are your responsibility now, my son.)_

_The man was pale and his eyes drooped closed as he spoke. He was lying in his bed, draped in blankets and breathing heavily; it was a sorry sight. Beside his bed, a young boy was sat on a stool, watching as his father breathed his last. He'd been summoned by the doctor, who'd said that the patient would see no more this night._

_"Je vous promets, mon père ... mais s'il vous plaît ... ne me quitte pas ... Je vous en prie ..." the boy said. (I promise, father...but please...do not leave me...I beg you...)_

_"Non, jamais mendier. Soyez forts," the dying man ordered with pitiable command. (No. Never beg. Be strong.)_

_"Je vais essayer, père," the child nodded. (I will try, father.)_

_"Bon," the man sighed heavily as his eyes closed completely and he breathed no more._

_"Père?" cried the child, (Father?) but he could see that his father was gone. He was alone..._

_That night, fourteen year old Nicolas de Brabant was now without a father, and his family was without it head, so now, it fell to him to lead the family, and care for his widowed mother and young sister. They were by now means poor, but they needed money. And the only way they could get it was if Nicolas worked, so he would find work._

_He was sat in his father's study, staring down at the papers in the old desk which he'd so often seen the man pour over, but which he found so very dull. His mother was stood across from him with silent tears streaming down her regal face as she focused on a single candle to her right._

_"Si seulement ton père était encore en vie ..." she said with a sad look. (If your father were still alive...)_

_"Mais il n'est pas," Nicolas replied, "Je dois travailler," he added. (But he isn't. I must work.)_

_"Oh, mon fils, je suis désolé, votre père était un homme bon, et vous aussi," his mother replied and gave him one last smile before she left the room. (Oh, my son, I am sorry, your father was a good man, and so are you.)_

_And so, young Nicolas was left alone in the room which his father had so often occupied. It seemed now so cold and unwelcoming that he shivered. He had no idea what work he would do. He remembered his father telling him of the knights and their bravery. Perhaps he could be a knight. Whatever he chose there wasn't time to waste, he'd look into it directly._

* * *

**Present...**

Nick jumped when he heard the ringing of his phone. It forced the memory away and he shakily answered the device. "Hello?" he sighed, suddenly struck by how much he sounded like his dead father.

"Hey, old man, I've been calling for over a minute," Spike said and Nick rolled his eyes.

"Yeah...I was...somewhere else," he explained.

"Right, anyway, turns out this thing of yours is a real mystery," the young vampire replied, "It's been driving me nuts."

"You didn't find anything?"

"Well...I found something, but it's just a story," he said.

"Tell me," Nick replied quickly.

"Well...it starts in India like over a thousand years ago, right, and there's this thing, it's sort of like a ghost but it has a body, when it hunts it turns to smoke. It tricks people, y'know, sometimes it rips out your heart, or it..."

"Get on with it," Nick sighed.

"Right...anyway...in the story there this person, and they can control this thing and use it to kill anyone they want. I don't know how true any of this is, 'cos its just something someone sent me that no ones heard of, it could just be bogus, but it sure fits the bill, man," Spike continued, "The voice thing, the ghost thing...oh...right...and there's vampires in this story as well. They say the person calling the shots is one of us, and that they've had over a hundred vampires killed by this thing," he finished.

"Why would a vampire prey on its own kind?" Nick wondered.

"Dunno, man," Spike said, "Like I said, I dunno how true..."

"Does this story say anything about its weaknesses?"

"Nope, only the person who calls the shots can stop it, I guess...unless you find it's body and cut it's head off."

"Why the head?" Nick blinked.

"Well that usually does the trick, don'it?" the younger vampire answered confidently.

Nick sighed as he leaned back further into the couch. It was fortunate for Spike that he was not having to deal with LaCroix, for the ancient would've long since torn out his throat, and Nick was already irritated with the young vampire's unfounded confidence. But such was youth.

"Right," he said finally, "Thank you."

"No problemo," Spike enunciated and hung up.

Instantly, Nick tossed the phone onto the coffee table closest to him and closed his eyes. He was still no better off now. With only a story to go on he was no closer to finding the thing that had attacked him. If LCroix know no more about it than he did, then it was unlikely that any other vampire would. Except perhaps Eris - she'd been here for several decades, surely she'd heard something.

So, ignoring the fatigue he felt beginning to set in, Nick flew straight for the vampire's manor where he knocked politely on the front door. He knew LaCroix would frown on such a mortal act, but Nick hardly knew Eris, he considered it rude to intrude in someone's house when you hardly knew them.

The door was answered by a young man with pale skin and dark features who soon introduced himself as Luca Mancini. Nick was shown into a dark study which was lit by candlelight and Eris walked in a second later. She was dressed in a long black dress with long lace sleeves reaching down to her bejewelled fingers.

"Ah, Nicholas, what brings you here?" she smiled.

"I wanted to ask you about something," he replied.

"Go on."

"I was wondering if you'd ever had any problems here before," Nick said, "Any difficulties at all?"

"What kind of difficulties?"

"Inexplicable deaths, mysterious disappearances...strange voices?"

"No, nothing like that," she shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

"There's nothing, I assure you," she insisted harshly.

Nick furrowed his brow; something wasn't right. She was hiding something. She was acting almost defensively and she'd answered very quickly.

"Because something tried to kill me," he continued, "It almost succeeded."

"And you think I know who it was?" she smiled as she walked across to him confidently.

"Well you've lived here for decades," he shrugged, "This thing is dangerous, it could entice our kind to their deaths, I would've thought that..."

"You thought wrong," she snapped.

"You don't even know what I was..."

"Oh, but I do," she scoffed, "You and LaCroix are the same. You simply turn up and take everything from me. This town is mine and your master took it from me. He cares for nothing but himself and you are the same. You are both from bad blood."

"I don't..."

"I am only sorry it did not succeed."

"What?" Nick frowned as she continued. This had suddenly turned bad very quickly.

"I can take this no longer; I am not an obedient little dog for your master to command! It wasn't my original intention, however, but my pride cannot take this servitude," she snapped. "Through my veins runs the blood of the royals; my master was of noble blood and now I am deposed by a mere general. It sickens me!" she screamed and flung her right hand out at a small table, it was frown across the room and shattered into a million pieces against the wall.

Her eyes shone red and her fangs glistened in the candlelight. Nick didn't fancy his chances against her; she was older and he was weakened. Not a winning combination.

"The creature is yours," he said quietly, "The story is true, isn't it? You control it?"

"What a clever little knight you are," she nodded.

Nick chanced a look behind him at the door as he heard it click open, and he saw Luca enter with a woman whose name he didn't know. This made his odds of survival even lower - three against one. Surely if he was injured LaCroix would sense it and he would come...of course that would mean he needed to be wounded first, and that was something he wanted to avoid.

But it was almost dawn; he really hadn't thought this through. However, Nick had no way of knowing that Eris was really behind the attempt on his life. Nor had he any way of predicting her sudden, violent mood-swing. Losing her territory must've played heavily on her pride and the anger had only got worse, evidently this had been a long time coming no matter what she said. Anger like this didn't just appear one day, it grew and grew until you couldn't control it.

"You went to Spike, didn't you?" she asked after a minute. "I knew I should've killed him, but I'm actually quite fond of him; despite his youth he's a remarkable eccentric. And you are impetuous, I knew it would work in my favour."

"Risky, wasn't it?" Nick asked.

"Perhaps, but in desperation people...or vampires...will do anything," she shrugged. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to kill you, not yet anyway. No, you see, I don't blame you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," he scoffed and she laughed.

"You are as foolish as your maker," she said, "It's not you I want, it is LaCroix. He took what is mine, now it is my turn to take something from him, you are my bait."

"For LaCroix?" Nick said raising an eyebrow, "He's not stupid. He won't come," he added.

"I think he will. You forget, while you were sleeping I saw him at his most vulnerable, without you he has nothing to live for. He has become pathetic," she growled. "No vampire should form attachments."

"LaCroix doesn't form attachments," Nick told her.

"He has one," she said quickly before she flew at him, tossing him to the ground like a rag doll, "And it will be his undoing," she added as he fought back but before he knew it he felt her bite deeply and carelessly into his throat.

He tried with all his might to force her off but with the weight of her, the other two vampires holding him down, and his fatigue working against him, he didn't have much of a chance. Her fangs moved violently against his skin, clearly she didn't care if she happened to sever his throat in the process. In his already weakened state it didn't take long for her to almost drain him dry. But when she stood up he could still feel the last drops of his blood trying to compensate for all he had lost. He still had his eyes open, but that was all he could do.

"I was going to simply let it eat you, but this is much more fun," she smiled at him as he tiredly bared his fangs at her. But he couldn't move, he had no strength left at all.

"What now?" the nameless woman asked looking down at Nick emotionlessly.

"Stay here, watch him, but he's going anywhere," Eris chuckled. "The General will be here soon and I want to look my best. It's bad manners to greet honoured guests while covered in blood," she smiled and walked from the room.

Nick couldn't feel anything at all except exhaustion; he'd been drained to the point just before death and he wouldn't last long without blood, any blood. This was the extent to which vampires drained mortals just before turning them, but vampires went supposed to lose this much blood. Unlike mortals their blood cells couldn't regenerate, that was why they drank it, and Nick estimated that he had around 20 minutes if he was lucky, before he died.

...And what surprised him most was the fact that he didn't want to die. He wanted to live and it felt strange to admit that after everything that had happened. He turned onto his side and brought a hand up to his neck to stop the bleeding and save what little blood he had left but even that small action felt Herculean.

"I never thought I'd see someone so old look so weak," the young woman said as she knelt beside him and wiped some of his blood up with her index finger.

"Don't," Luca ordered quickly.

"She didn't drain him dry, and I've never tasted a knight before," she pouted like a spoilt child.

"Fine," Luca sighed and sat down, sounding like an indulgent parent. The woman licked her finger and smiled contentedly. "Well?" he asked.

"I wish she'd let us drain him," she sighed, "When we move I vote we go to wherever he's from."

"We don't get a vote," Luca droned.

"Oh fie," she mocked laughingly and Nick would have rolled his eyes if only he had the strength; listening to these two prattle on was worse than any painful death in the world. It was like a bad double act.

In a final act of defiance, and perhaps stupidity, Nick raised his hand and brought it around the woman's neck. He squeezed until he could feel the bone and muscle against his palm but then he felt a sharp smack to the back of his head and his hand fell from her neck.

"Great, now he is dead," he heard her croak through the black oblivion that crept in.

* * *

A.N. I wasn't sure about the date for the flashback, since I only read that as a young man Nick became aide to Sir Raymond DeLabarre. I don't remember any flashbacks about his father or anything so this is just my interpretation, and since people tended to work from a young age back then I figured it was a reasonable age for him.


	10. Crescendo

**CHAPTER 9: Crescendo.**

* * *

It wasn't long before sunrise and LaCroix was stood with two Enforcers of the region in a deserted backstreet of the city. To LaCroix, all Enforcers looked the same. They all had the same stern, uncaring features stony gaze and elongated fangs. He'd left Nicholas alone in the house after they'd returned and of course he'd said nothing about summoning the Enforcers. He didn't want Nick to do anything rash.

"It is not our concern," one of them said.

"It attacks our kind," LaCroix replied, "It has killed before, surely..."

"It has not threatened to expose our world; it is not our concern," the Enforcer repeated.

"But you do know of it?" the general asked but he got no answer; this was beginning to frustrate him. But he needed to keep his temper in check - nothing good would come from attacking an Enforcer or two.

Just as he was about to speak again though he felt a sudden sense of weakness overtake him and he held his head against his right hand as he explored this feeling.

LaCroix almost doubled over as he felt the pain continue to engulf him and with great effort he forced it down. Once he could see clearly and without another glance at the Enforcers, he focused on the source and followed his son's pain across the city. He could feel Nicholas growing weaker and weaker and soon he felt his son stop fighting against whatever was attacking him. He knew the younger vampire had lost too much blood, he could sense it.

Fortunately since he'd been feeding Nick so much recently, his bond with his son was very strong and it only took a minute for LaCroix to locate him. He was in Eris' manor. He flew in silently and was at once greeted by the vampire herself wearing a revealing outfit of tight black leather. But her beauty was insignificant next to his son's pain which he could still feel from very close by.

Clearly she had shown her true colours; LaCroix had been fearful of this but it still didn't explain the thing which had attacked Nick.

"Explain yourself, " he ordered and she smiled.

"I don't have to. You took something of mine, so I did the same," she shrugged. "I suppose you're curious about my pet. I found it in India in the ninth century when I was young, it'd been wounded and almost killed by another of our kind."

"And you saved it?" LaCroix scoffed.

"I did, it serves me...when I let it out, that is," she replied. "I know it wanted you dead, LaCroix, you felt its presence all those years ago, for that reason alone it wanted to kill you. But I kept it from acting; you weren't a threat then, that nobleman was, he'd started looking into the disappearances, I couldn't allow that."

"So you had him and his entire household murdered," he asked.

"Of course," she shrugged, "No survivors; no chance of anything being seen. It obeys me because I saved it from death. The other children it killed are its food, I have no interest in them. It's killed dozens of our kind over the years..

"And you let it live?!" LaCroix hissed.

"They were just children, they had no purpose," she said simply, "The Code does not protect the children, they had no masters, I will not be reprimanded."

"Not by the Enforcers, perhaps," the Roman snarled. "But you are an ancient, you are supposed to defend our kind!"

"How quaint," she smiled as he made to follow the bond he had to Nick but she stepped in front of him with a cruel smile. "He is dead."

LaCroix could sense that Nicholas was still alive; only just, but he very soon would be dead if he didn't hurry up. He glared at Eris with red eyes but she didn't seem to be afraid, instead she laughed. This however was the wrong move. LaCroix was infuriated and he rushed at Eris, forcing her back to slam into the wall with a resounding 'thud.'

"You do NOT cross me!" he growled in her face, baring his fangs at her.

"It was YOU who crossed me! You took my territory from me! You had this coming!"

"Petulant child!" he hissed, "Vampires move, territories exchange hands!"

"Not mine!" she cried and forced him back.

Then suddenly something different flew at him, something like a shadow that blocked everything else out and he found himself staring into an endless darkness. He wasn't used to seeing nothing but blackness; vampires had inferred vision so seeing in the dark was second nature. This was not his idea of a good time.

"Lucius," a quiet voice called, "Lucius," it repeated louder. LaCroix tried in vain to find the speaker, but it kept repeating his old name.

"Where are you?!" he demanded.

"Lucius, occidisti filiam nostram! Nostri unicus! Mea Divia!" the voice screamed out in Latin. It was a voice he remembered. (You murdered our daughter! Our only child! My Divia!)

A second later it was Celine who stood before him in all her radiant beauty of old, with the same confident expression which she had aways seemed to possess. She'd never been afraid of him. That detail made her seem so real. She looked so real, but it had to be a trick. It wasn't real. It was the creature playing its tricks on him. Celine was long dead. He would not be tricked while Nicholas was dying. Nothing else mattered.

He stormed over to her and took her throat in his hands. Even when he tightened his grip she showed no emotion at all; she should've been gasping for air and she wasn't even blinking.

"Don't move," she suddenly commanded in English and part of him felt compelled to obey; he didn't know why. But he served no one; he didn't take orders. So, instead, he threw her across the darkness and flew aside just as a long, pointed piece of wood pierced the air where he had been stood mere milliseconds ago.

The blackness dissipated like mist and LaCroix saw Eris holding the stake which had just missed his heart.

"You look shocked," he smirked at her from across the room. Perhaps the effects of her creature were diminished by his age and she hadn't anticipated it or it was weak from its failed attack on Nick. Either way it worked to LaCroix's advantage. He flew towards her once more and instantly tore the stake from her hands, twisting her wrist painfully as he did so.

He felt something smash against his back and he dropped Eris harshly as he flung the second attacker, which he saw was the young Luca, across the room. He went through a wall and was quickly incapacitated.

Then LaCroix turned back to Eris with his red eyes and the two began a swiftly moving fight. They tossed each other around and scratched and clawed and hissed at one another but it was soon evident that he was stronger. She was clearly desperate now to be fighting him on close combat like this.

They flew about the room, smashing furniture and shattering walls, cratering the floor and denting the ceiling as they moved. But before long, his skill and extra 700 years won out and she made a fatal mistake. It was only for a split second but she left herself unguarded and he took full advantage of that.

He tore into her neck and she growled as she refused to recognise defeat. LaCroix fed from her with increasing disgust but it was the most efficient way of rendering her unconscious.

When he was finished he dropped her body unceremoniously onto the now dirty floor and faced the dark shadow that still seemed to form the shape of Celine. It was motionless as though confused or dazed and LaCroix took advantage of this. He preceded to tare it's head from its neck and it exploded in a mass of black sand. LaCroix couldn't be sure whether it was dead or not, but it was all he could do for now.

He then sought out and followed his link to Nicholas. The younger vampire was moments away from death, he could feel it; his son was slipping away from him again. But this time it was not of his making.

He stormed into a room, almost ripping the door off its hinges as he did so and there he found Nick, lying on his side, motionless. LaCroix flew across to Nick and attempted to rouse him. Nick's eyes fluttered weakly but he didn't speak. "Nicholas!" he snapped as he shook Nick's shoulders, noting with fury the unhealed, messy puncture marks on his neck.

LaCroix tore into his wrist and guided it to Nick's mouth as he had done so many times before. It was well over half a minute before Nick had the strength to open his eyes completely, let alone use his fangs, but when he did, instead of taking blood from LaCroix's wrist he bit into his master's neck.

After a few minutes of mindless feeding Nick felt stronger, however LaCroix was significantly weakening; he'd let Nicholas take more of his blood than he should've, but he wouldn't stop Nick. The vampire had been all but drained dry and LaCroix felt somewhat responsible; he'd known that Eris was a disaster waiting to happen, but he'd truly never anticipated this. Her tactics had been cowardly and beneath her, yet she was usually so courageous and frank.

LaCroix felt heavy and sluggish as he felt Nick finally pull away of his own accord. He stared down at his son who still looked a little worse for the ware with pale eyes but otherwise appeared now healed.

"LaCroix..." Nick spoke with a sudden urgency that LaCroix didn't understand and the younger vampire gripped his shoulder and tried weakly to move him. Not knowing what the problem was, LaCroix frowned, he expected Nick to explain himself but it soon became unnecessary, because, a second later, a searing agony pierced his torso.

Because nothing else had mattered except for Nicholas...not even the faint footsteps creeping up behind him, he hadn't noticed anything else. It was a foolish mistake on his part which was highly uncharacteristic of him. LaCroix felt every single fibre and splinter of the wooden stake as it was driven through his back and out the front of his chest. He felt the remnants of his strength seep out with his blood which trickled down the stake, across his clothes and pooled on the floor.

With some of his strength returned Nick flew up and threw the younger vampire across the room and made sure she was unconscious before he rushed back to LaCroix. The general had been staked before, but nothing as bad as this. He'd have to take it out. It wasn't going to be pretty and Nick remembered that it was nearly dawn; he had no chance of getting them both back to the house before sunrise.

LaCroix fought to stay conscious as he feared the consequences if he didn't. This was his own fault. There was no one else to blame; if ever there was a deterrent for caring about ones children then this would be it - it distracts from other things and leads to destruction. Fortunately though, Nicholas was alive...what a strange irony that LaCroix was the one staked when Nick had asked to be so not too long ago.

"LaCroix, stay still," Nick ordered and griped the stake, then he pulled it out fiercely from his master's torso with a grimace.

The wounded vampire bit back a cry of agony and a string of old, long forgotten curses as the stake was quickly removed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such pain.

Nick bit into his wrist and quickly offered it to his master but LCroix shoo his head.

"No," he refused. He'd not just fed Nick, if he took the blood back it would undo all of his work.

"We don't have time for this," Nick sighed as he let the blood drip into LaCroix's mouth. It was impossible for him to refuse again; he was weak and there was blood. So he tore into Nick's wrist and began to take back the blood. When he felt the wound begin to heal up he forced himself to stop. He couldn't take anymore, if he did then he'd kill Nicholas.

Nick sighed as LaCroix stopped, but he was relived that the vampire wasn't dead from his wound. He'd have to find where Eris kept her bottled blood; they both needed it.

It took him several attempts but he managed to stand up and then he half carried the barely conscious LaCroix into one of the bedrooms which showed no signs of previous use and drew the thick curtains ready for dawn then preceded to lock the unconscious Eris and her children in their basement as best he could. He'd have to remain awake as guard until sunset when, hopefully, he'd be able to move LaCroix back to their house.

Through their bond he felt LaCroix continue to stir on the edge of consciousness and Nick quickly ran through to the kitchen and searched the cupboards and drawers and the fridge but he couldn't find any blood anywhere. Maybe she hid it somewhere.

Nick was half starved and beaten so he focused and tried to smell the blood. He could smell his own, he could smell LaCroix's and Eris' and slowly there was a glimmer of red; human blood. He flew towards the scent and found himself in a spacious, grand bedroom which he guessed was Eris' herself. He found an old chest under the bed filled with tinted wine bottles and he carried it back into the room, along with a box of matches and some candles, in which he'd left LaCroix.

After rousing LaCroix and handing him the first opened bottle, Nick lit the few candles about the room and then placed the ones he'd brought from the other room and lit them as well.

LaCroix didn't say a word as he drained the bottle dry. It wasn't as good or as effective as draining a living mortal would've been but he simply didn't have the strength to attempt such a feat. He couldn't get over the fact that he'd allowed this to happen, and as a general it was likely his pride would never truly recover.

Nick leaned against the wall as he finished off a bottle and gradually, his strength returned. The amount of effort he'd put into moving LaCroix, confining the three other vampires and searching for blood, had taken its toll on him; he had exhausted the strength which LaCroix's blood had given him and now it was returning. His neck was the last to heal properly; Eris had all but shredded the skin and he felt its sting still. But LaCroix had certainly got revenge for that, she'd been all but drained and broken when Nick had dragged her into the basement. If she woke up, she wouldn't pose any kind of threat for a while yet.

After LaCroix downed a second bottle he could feel oblivion creep across his consciousness; he needed to sleep. He attempted to search for the presences of the other vampires in the building but all he could feel was Nick's growing strength through their bond; he was too drained to sense any other.

Dawn came and went and Nick was sat with his eyes closed as he focused on the three vampires in the basement; he could sense that they were still unconscious and were no threat, yet. But he couldn't let his guard down, if he did it wound be too risky.

So, for the whole day while LaCroix slept, Nick was entirely attuned to Eris, Luca and the young woman. It was inadvisable to spend so much time focused on other vampires, especially one with whom he had no link to, but it wasn't like he had a choice. If he kept watch over them in the basement he could be risking an attack, and he wasn't going to leave LaCroix unguarded. He didn't doubt that if certain vampires knew the ancient was so vulnerable they wouldn't hesitate in taking advantage of it.

As the hours passed he could feel each struggled breath the three vampires took, he could almost see feel their pain as his own. Because he was so focused on Eris he slowly began seeing into her memories and he saw the moment she'd first seen this creature of hers.

* * *

**_South India, late 9th century..._**

_She was walking in the middle of a dark alleyway, there wasn't a single speck of light anywhere in sight but she could still see the stone of the crumbling buildings and the dirt on the ground which slowly climbed the walls. She could feel the heartbeat of people lying close by, she could see the blood in their veins with the hunger of a young vampire, but with just enough experience to control it._

_As she continued to move she felt something not human; whatever it was, it had a presence different from mortals and vampires, and she couldn't see it's blood. Ruled by curiosity and boredom Eris followed the trail and very quickly she came across something very strange._

_It was simply lying there; its shape indistinguishable from the shadows, but she felt drawn to it. She could tell it was wounded; she'd seen enough of the world to know death when it was near, and it was circling in anticipation around this being._

_"What are you?" she asked quietly as she edged closer to it._

_Around her she could see well over a dozen bodies all shattered and broken with their blood pooling around them. They were all vampires and they were all dead._

_"Did you do this?" she asked in awe. She'd never seen such carnage caused by one single being before; even her master had limits. "Tell me what you are," Eris insisted, "I can be of help."_

_She sighed as she got no answer but, a second later, she found herself swallowed by a shadow that seemed even darker than the night itself. Was this her answer?_

_"Sleep," a voice commanded her and Eris felt her eyes close._

_It was hours before she had the strength to open them again but when she did, she saw only darkness. It was now well into the day and yet she was still living, she was in safe shadows not harsh sunlight and yet she had fallen in an open alley. Across from her she felt a familiar presence and she frowned in confusion as a pair of black eyes somehow stood out in the shadows._

* * *

**Present...**

"Nicholas?" LaCroix spoke eventually as he woke. He was greatly improved and he could sense the sun as it began to set in the distance, and he could also feel the remnants of his wound. It had healed remarkably well and not for the first time it appeared that he was in his son's debt. Maybe it would prove to Nicholas just how much they could do for each other, and how much a nick belonged at his side.

"Hmm?" Nick hummed, still with his eyes closed.

"What are you doing?

"Focusing," Nick answered.

"It's almost dark," LaCroix replied.

"Is it?" Nick asked, still caught in Eris' memory. "I thought it was daylight," he said.

"What?"

"Daylight seems worse in India than another country," the younger vampire frowned. It was a strange feeling to have one half of you in another's memory and the other left untouched; it was as if he had lost part of himself and it now belonged to Eris. Her memory was speaking through him and he couldn't stop it. "Why did I come here?" Eris asked in her mind, and Nick asked it aloud.

"Nicholas?" LaCroix repeated gently. He had seen this before and it was foolish of Nicholas to let it happen...almost as foolish as letting oneself get staked. This usually happened to the young when they were learning to control their abilities and they worked too hard to do so. He'd also seen it used as a form of vampire torture by other vampires.

"It lives in shadow," Nick said, " It must kill, it despises the light; we are the same."

"Nicholas, stop this at once," the general ordered as he pushed himself from the bed.

"Nicholas?" Nick repeated in confusion, "My name is Eris."

"No, your name is Nicholas," LaCroix corrected as he moved to stand beside Nick. The younger vampire finally opened his eyes and met the gaze of his master with a frown.

"LaCroix?" Nick spoke as he breathed deeply, "Oh," he frowned as he realised what he'd allowed to happen. "Eris lives, she and the other are still unconscious. Luca is...beginning to wake," he blinked. That had been one strange experience which he never wished to repeat. "I er...I locked them in the basement," he explained.

"How thorough," LaCroix replied.

"We...we should leave..." Nick said as his senses returned.

"Yes, and we shall, once the sun is down."

"...Right," he nodded and rubbed his temples. His head was pounding and unusually he could still feel an odd, tender sensation on his neck. "What happened to...it?"

"It's dead," LaCroix answered simply.

"You're sure?"

"Yes," he said with a confidence he wasn't sure he felt, but fortunately Nick didn't ask about it again.

They were silent as they waited for the sun to set, and, minutes later, it did. The sky was dark and the street lamps cast dim rays on the pavements below while the few visible stars above shone even dimmer against the moon.


	11. A Change in the Wind

**CHAPTER 10: A Change in the Wind.**

* * *

Nick and LaCroix left Eris' manor as quickly as they could, the very second in which the sun had set and all the while, Nick was inundated with his masters' sense of defeat and irritation. He knew from experience that the older vampire was already thinking of how to revenge himself on Eris and her children.

"We can't just kill her," Nick said to him as they neared the house. He was very much afraid that LaCroix would do something drastic and, knowing him, dramatic, to send out a message; a message that screamed 'do not mess with Lucien LaCroix.'

"And why not? Do you have any idea how many vampires she's killed? She almost killed you, and she would've killed me; we're due a little revenge, Nicholas," LaCroix replied calmly.

"Maybe it would be better if we just went somewhere else, there's plenty of..."

"Why would we do that?" LaCroix scoffed, "To leave now would be to admit defeat; I personally have invested too much - including, my blood now, to even contemplate the idea; shame on you, Nicholas."

"I just..."

"How many times over the years have we moved to another vampires territory? This is not the only time I've had to deal with petulant children in over their heads; they need to be taught that lands exchange hands."

"Not all of the others had strange killing...things...under their control," Nick pointed out.

"No, but she has still lost."

"We hope."

"I don't hope; I know. I killed the creature myself."

"How can you kill something like that?" the younger vampire asked.

"Like everything else, go back to basics and tear its head from its neck."

"Hm," Nick scoffed, suddenly remembering what 'Spike' had told him, in his youthful wisdom.

"What?" LaCroix demanded.

"Nothing," Nick shook his head ruefully as they entered the house. "Why did we come if you knew there was someone like her here?" he asked.

"You think this was my fault?" LaCroix hissed instantly.

"No..." Nick said quietly.

"Well, good, because if you hadn't acted without thinking - again - she wouldn't have been given such an opportunity to act! You practically handed her your life on a silver platter!"

"I didn't..."

"You didn't think! I know! It's honestly a wonder you're still alive as it is," LaCroix sighed. "Does your desire to live only manifest itself when you're a second from death?"

"Well, I..." Nick frowned; he couldn't finish his sentence because he knew LaCroix was right. He had stupidly, run right into danger without thinking, and he did think about how much he actually wanted to live right when he thought he was going to die. Just as he had done when he'd nearly been fried to a crisp the other day in his own room, and again when Eris and her 'delightful' children had all but drained him dry, and now he was struck by just how strange it was.

Nick didn't want to admit that LaCroix was right...but he was, "...I'm sorry," he said after a minute, "You're right...I didn't think..."

"..." LaCroix opened his mouth to speak but he was so taken aback and surprised by Nick's admission that for one of few times in his long life, he found that words just escaped him. He watched as Nick walked across the living room and poured two full glasses, then he held one out for LaCroix to take from him.

The general took the glass with a steady hand as he regarded his son curiously, but he was still lost for words. Where was his sons' unwavering stubbornness? Why was he admitting that he was wrong so easily? Usually, Nick refused to admit that LaCroix was right purely because of his pride, but now, here he was apologising to his father...And all it had taken was two near death experiences, not that he wanted Nick to have two near death experiences, but still, it was a welcome change.

"So...what are you planning?" Nick asked him.

"Planning?" LaCroix spoke aloud, lost still in thought. He blinked and stared down at the liquid in the wine glass he held, and he swirled the blood around the sides of the sparking crystal.

"Yes, planning," Nick said, "You do have a plan don't you?"

"I always have a plan," the older vampire said with condescension.

"Well, what is it?"

"I'm afraid you need to prove to me that you are not suicidal to hear that, Nicholas," LaCroix replied stoically.

Nick rolled his eyes, "I'm not," he frowned.

"Do forgive me if I don't take your word for it just yet," the Roman vampire said and Nick thought it best not to argue the point and avoid further angering his master, so he said nothing further.

To Nick, each second passed agonisingly slowly and he could feel LaCroix's irritation and derision at his previous action rising off the man in waves and he could practically see the cogs turning in his mind. He knew LaCroix was planning the most devastating defeat for Eris and her children, and he just hoped that it wouldn't involve their brutal, and public murders.

Fortunately for Nick, it wasn't exactly murder that LaCroix was planning. He wanted Eris' defeat to be as humiliating and as devastating as possible, and simply leaving her and her children to rot in their own basement simply didn't fit the description. Unlike him, he couldn't get to Eris through her children; he cared about what happen to Nicholas, but Eris didn't care about what befell her own fledglings. When Nick was injured and close to death, LaCroix felt it deep in his blood and a powerful, primal response was quick to take over as it had before. But he could murder Luca and Amelia right in front of her and she wouldn't feel a thing.

No, it simply wasn't enough to kill them in an attempt to crush her spirit, he would need to strike at Eris herself, in front of the entire vampire community to obliterate her reputation. As a General, LaCroix knew that there were many different fates worse than death, and total humiliation was one of them, if done right. Eris, like him, was proud to the point of arrogance and so a damning defeat was what LaCroix had in mind for her.

* * *

Eris awoke, instantly fuelled with anger and rage boiling in her blood. She was weak and irritated and her foul mood was only worsened when she saw that she was shut up in her own basement and she felt weak as a newborn kitten. She felt tired and she needed blood; lots and lots of blood. Eris' temper didn't improve when she found he two fledglings lying unconscious beside her.

"Get up!" she ordered her children sternly, and kicked them with the toe of her boot. "Get up!" she repeated, her eyes flashing red.

"Mmm," Luca winced as he opened his eyes.

"Ow...my head..." Amelia groaned.

"Quiet! As soon as the sun is gone, get out there and find them!" Eris growled instantly.

"Why do we have to..." Luca began to ask nervously.

"Don't question me!" Eris yelled, "I don't care what it takes!"

"But...maybe we..." Luca said, but Eris backhanded him before he could continue. The force she used was so great that the sound echoed in the room and he was left with a fierce red welt on his face.

"I said do not question me," she hissed, "You are both weak."

"We were attacked," Amelia frowned.

"And so was I, that doesn't mean I'm going to give up!" Eris said, "I will not allow him to win," she added and began throwing her weight at the door as her children sighed - one more so than the other.

* * *

When night fell once more, it brought with it two Enforcers who flew silently through the darkness and, without invitation, they entered the house of LaCroix. They lurked in the shadows of the living room as LaCroix held their gaze with anger in his eyes.

Nick spun around and narrowed his eyes as the two cruel looking Enforcers stalked into the room, flawlessly bringing with them an air of superciliousness and condescension as they moved with a predatory gait. They hissed at Nick as though in disgust and deepest hatred. Nick began to hiss back, but knowing how powerful these vampires were, and remembering the consequences of what would happen if he were to provoke and attack, he stopped.

LaCroix on the other hand, flew towards them, "How dare you come here?!" he yelled and they both bared their fangs menacingly at him. "I warned you once already about..." the General began a second later in a more civil tone of voice.

"We do not take 'warnings' from you," one of the Enforcers said.

"I suggest you leave..."

"Be silent," the same vampire hissed at him, and they then turned their attentions to Nick.

"You will stay away from mortals," the vampire ordered.

"You will not attempt to live like them," the other said, "We will not allow it."

"How did you...you've been watching me...all this time?" Nick furrowed his brow. So not only did he have LaCroix on his back, the Enforcers were also watching his every move; Nick was not amused.

"You cause trouble," one of the Enforcers said.

"You threaten our secrecy," the other vampire added.

"It's not me going around killing vampires!" he retaliated, "You should be watching Eris, not me!"

"She is not our concern."

"Not your 'concern'," Nick scoffed, "If she keeps going, she'll be the one revealing vampires to the whole world!" he said confidently, "You do know she's had a pet monster killing our kind for the past few centuries?"

The Enforcers said nothing as they glared at Nick and bared their fangs at him in a show of hatred. "And unless you make sure it's dead, she'll keep on killing vampires, and then people will start getting suspicious...is that what you want?" Nick continued.

"Your only concern is to maintain our secrecy," the first Enforcer said after a minute.

"We will be watching," the second said, before they flew off leaving a tense silence in their wake.

"...Well, that was helpful," Nick sighed frustratedly.

"What did you expect?" LaCroix shrugged. He knew how unhelpful the Enforcers were from recent experience but at least they didn't despise him like they did Nick. "They may be rather stupid, but they are tenacious. I already spoke to them about her and they paid me just as little attention; it is unlikely to change no matter who tells them. And you have been a thorn in their side before, so..."

"...You knew they were watching me...didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?" Nick turned to his master.

"It seemed rather counterproductive," LaCroix shrugged.

"Counterproductive," Nick repeated.

"Yes, if I had told you from the first second you would have rushed head first into danger and tried to confront them; one does not confront the Enforcers," LaCroix said.

"You still should've told me."

"A matter of opinion," the older vampire replied quickly and Nick sighed. It was this attitude of his master that prevented him from fully trusting LaCroix, and always had done in the past; this attitude that liked to keep Nick in the dark simply because LaCroix deemed it 'necessary', or often amusing to do so.

"Why do you always have to be like that?" Nick asked.

"Like what?" LaCroix asked arrogantly, deciding to toy with his son.

"Like that!" the younger exclaimed, "...Condescending!"

"I am your superior."

Nick sighed and turned away from LaCroix. He knew his master saw this as an opportunity to play with his emotions and Nick knew he'd walked right into it, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. He knew that it was this supercilious attitude of LaCroix's which had helped drive a wedge in their relationship. The man had hardly ever shown any respect for him and it made Nick feel inferior, then he'd lashed out in anger which, in turn, usually made LaCroix fight back and then they'd both hate one another. Was it really so impossible for LaCroix to simply acknowledge that he cared...even a little bit? Why did he always have to be better than him?

"You're being foolish, Nicholas," he heard LaCroix scoff, and he held his tongue, thinking it was best to remain silent.

* * *

As Eris had ordered, Luca was out in the city; he and Amelia had been told to feed and then to find young, unattended vampires to bring back to feed to her dying pet monster. Unlike his sibling though, Luca wasn't planning on luring an innocent child to their death. He couldn't keep doing it.

Luca frowned in confusion as his heart beat loudly against his ribs. Although Eris was his master and he knew that he should obey, part of him was very worried that this business had driven the older vampiress over the edge. Though he had once loved her deeply and he knew he'd had some small claim on her affections, Luca was well aware that he no loner held any of it, and it was out of habit, rather then duty, that made him remain with Eris now. But in truth he was tired of her anger. He was tired of her endless lust for murder and violence and he wanted out.

He knew Amelia was too young and foolish to think for herself so she'd never agree to even listen to him, let alone consider his ideals. She was a puppet for Eris and she had no mind of her own, but Luca knew that he had been the same when he had been younger. To Eris, her fledglings were playthings and once they began to develop thoughts of their own she discarded them. Luca remembered such a situation just before Eris had brought Amelia across, when he'd tried to ask his master to think twice about a brutal murder of a young girl they'd found in the streets. Eris had practically mauled him almost to the point of death for even speaking up, he dreaded to think about what she'd have done if he'd acted on his thoughts.

Even now, it was sometimes difficult for him to comprehend planning to leave Eris, but after watching her these past few weeks, he wasn't so sure that he had it in him to remain. Luca had grown tired of her arrogance, he couldn't bear it any longer. All she'd had to do was give over her territory to another, much older vampire, and she'd done so several times as he'd seen, but what he didn't understand was why this one meant so much to her. Why had this driven her to such extremes? He didn't understand it at all. He also didn't know what to do.

If he chose to abandon her now and she eventually triumphed over LaCroix then she would surely kill him, but as soon as she found out about his plans, he'd be dead anyway. Many of his scenarios ended with his death, but Luca was at his wits end. It wasn't easy - keeping his thoughts of betrayal to himself, but what else could he do? He wasn't strong enough to stand up to Eris; she was much to powerful even when weakened he stood no chance against her...but Lucien LaCroix did.

Luca sighed into the shadows and made his choice on the spot; he was going to abandon Eris. He flew quickly through the sky and towards the house where he knew the Roman General lived. Enough was enough. It was time for a change.

It didn't take him long to reach the house and he took a deep breath before throwing caution to the wind and knocking on the door in a very human gesture. In under a second the door was flung open and Luca was pulled inside and onto the floor; clearly the other vampires had sensed his presence and they weren't best pleased.

"Wait!" he cried.

"What do you want?" LaCroix demanded.

"I...I am betraying my master...I need to speak to you..."

"A trick," LaCroix scoffed, "Another low tactic; sending in her child as a diversion."

"No," Luca said.

LaCroix growled in irritation and he lifted the vampire from the floor and pinned him against the wall, holding him there by his neck in a vice like grip.

"I will hear no more of this!" he hissed.

"If you kill me, you won't know what she's planning."

"I don't need you to tell me how to wage war," LaCroix replied, tightening his grip, "I am a General!"

"The creature still lives!"

"Lies! I killed it myself!"

"No..." Luca breathed as he felt his neck reach its limit, "I...it...it lives...barely..."

"LaCroix," Nick stepped forwards. While his master was lost in his anger, Nick could see something familiar in the younger vampire, and he had a strong feeling that he was telling the truth, "Let him speak," Nick said to LaCroix.

"Nicholas!" the General rolled his eyes.

"Just for a minute."

"...30 seconds," LaCroix agreed, "Then he dies," he added and instantly he released Luca from his grip.

Luca fell to the floor and breathed deeply, "I suggest you speak quickly," LaCroix told him.

"You...you wounded it...but it still lives. Eris ordered us to find food for it...but I came here instead," the young vampire said.

"Why?" Nick asked, genuinely curious.

Luca sighed deeply and stood slowly as his head spun from lack of air, "She is my master...I should obey her but I...I am not her puppet. I am no ones puppet."

"Brave words," LaCroix raised an eyebrow, "But I am not so easily convinced."

"I didn't expect you to be."

"What exactly did you expect?" the older vampire asked rhetorically.

"I want to help you...honestly...she doesn't know I am here...once she does find out I don't expect to live...but I refuse to be her plaything any longer."

"LaCroix," Nick began, "I think we should listen to him; I think he's telling the truth."

"It's too great a risk," his master replied strategically.

"One that will more than likely pay off."

"If you are going to kill me, allow me to at least say this," Luca sighed, "I believe she will use your fears," he said, looking at Nick, "...A French man, I think, and she plans to destroy you in front of your master."

"Why would he be telling us that if he hadn't betrayed her?" Nick asked LaCroix.

"I told you; it is a lie!"

"I don't think so."

"I swear to you by all I hold dear, it is not a lie," Luca insisted, "I beg you to believe me."

"Well..." Nick waited patiently to hear his masters' thoughts.


	12. Differences of Young and Old

**CHAPTER 11: Differences of Young and Old.**

* * *

Eris froze where she stood in a dark backstreet of the London suburbs, she could sense a strain in her bond with Luca and it was putting her on edge. She couldn't quite define it; the bond was weak because it had been so long since they'd shared blood, but it was always there. It had always been a bond of unwavering loyalty on his part, but recently that had been changing. She knew she should've paid more attention to Luca's activities, but with her territory being stolen by the General, Eris had been rather preoccupied.

Luca had been young and impressionable when she'd first met him and she had been drawn to his beauty and his charms for a source of entertainment, but after a while, the elder vampire had grown tired of him, and she'd lost all interest entirely; she'd kept him around as a mere slave. But now perhaps he was developing thoughts of his own, and now that Eris could sense this indescribable feeling in their bond, she was suspicious and furious. This had all started when LaCroix had arrived; this was all LaCroix's doing. It only further fuelled her already considerable rage and she narrowed her eyes and hissed cruelly into the air.

It wasn't that she cared for Luca's well being; in fact she didn't care a thing for the younger vampire at all, but it was the principle that really mattered. It was the fact that because of LaCroix, her world was falling to pieces all around p, and Eris found herself powerless to stop it. And now it seemed her worthless fledgling was the next thing to go. Like many vampire masters, Eris didn't even give that a second thought as she stared through the streets and envisioned one particular house.

She'd already spread rumours of several murdered young vampires and blamed LaCroix as the killer in an attempt to bring the community out to watch her victory over the Roman. It surely wouldn't take long once her attack started for the other vampires to sense something wrong. Eris chuckled into the shadows in anticipation; she was still quite a few streets away from the vampire LaCroix, whom she fully intended to murder this night.

* * *

"I think, you've been out of war for too long, Nicholas," LaCroix hissed at his wayward son. All the while he didn't take his eyes off the youngest vampire, Luca, who was still leaning against the wall and holding one hand loosely to his neck.

"And I think you've been in war too long, LaCroix," Nick retaliated.

"How else am I to survive?!" his master ground out with menace.

"By being smart; this is an opportunity to outsmart Eris..."

"No, it is not. Even if he is speaking the truth, Eris will sense his betrayal and he'll lead her straight here. You children can never understand how an ancient can feel the connection to our fledglings. You don't think!"

"...I..." Luca tried to speak.

"Silence!" LaCroix growled at him and Luca's words fell from his pale lips in fear. "If we keep him alive, he could turn on us as soon as she follows him here, if she hasn't already started to do so."

"And she'll bring it here with her!" Luca spoke up again, in fear. "She'll kill me for going behind her back like this...why won't you believe me?!"

"I believe you," Nick said to the younger vampire and LaCroix sighed deeply in frustration.

But Nick knew what it was like to disagree with ones master, and he knew how difficult it was to go against them; emotionally and physically. He could see that same feeling in Luca as he'd had himself over a century ago when he'd left LaCroix. Nick just knew for sure, that Luca was telling the truth - convincing LaCroix of that was going to be almost impossible though...Or was it? LaCroix had gone against his master as well. He had killed Divia because he disagreed with her ideals, so perhaps there was a chance for Nick to convince him.

"Nicholas..." LaCroix began.

"He doesn't agree with his master; I know how that feels, and so do you."

"This is different..."

"How is it different?" Nick demanded, and the older vampire glared momentarily at his son.

LaCroix hated to admit, but perhaps Nick did have a point. But he had no way of knowing for sure; if he drank Luca's blood, Eris would surely sense it and she would come charging in like a bull in a china shop and she'd try and kill all of them...and if she really did have that creature still, then the odds were not so good. It didn't leave him with many more options to chose, from, and running away seemed like the only one he hadn't contemplated - for good reason. A general never fled.

A distant rustling in the wind suddenly drew the old vampire's attention away from Luca, and he was able to sense the nearing of a great anger.

"Well..." LaCroix sighed, turning to face his son, "Either way it doesn't matter now."

"What?" Nick asked.

"She's here," he said simply, right before something smashed through the large bay window with enough force to send all three vampires hurtling across the room.

* * *

Nick found himself alone in the darkness, and even with his enhanced senses he couldn't make out a thing in the shadows. "LaCroix?" he called out but all he heard was his voice echoing back at him. "Eris!" he tried again, but once more, he got no answer.

He tried to walk around, hoping that he'd be able to see something or hear someone else but it was just an endless shadow in which he stood, alone. Nicholas had no idea what had happened; one minute he'd been standing in the living room with LaCroix and Luca, trying to convince his master of the younger vampire's sincerity, and then he was alone in shadow. It didn't make any sense.

"Nicolas..." a voice spoke up, like a whisper in the wind.

"LaCroix?" he jumped, "Is that you?"

"No," the voice said, "My son, it is I."

"...Father?" Nick blinked, and instinctively spun around, trying to find the source of the voice.

"Yes," it said.

Nick spun around as the voice of his father continued to move with the wind and it felt a though he were being stabbed in the heart each time the voice spoke. "You failed me," the voice added.

"What? How?" Nick breathed, his heart beating faster. The thought never crossed his mind that this was the work of Eris' monster; he hadn't seen or heard his mortal afternoon in so long, Nick missed him.

"Your sister. I told you to care for your sister!"

"I did!" Nick cried.

"No, no, you made her miserable! She was in love and you denied her! You denied them both!"

"I did what was best for them both!" Nick shouted, quickly recalling the expression on his young sisters' face that night.

"No, no you failed them. You failed your sister and you failed your master!"

"No...no, I did what was best for them both!" Nick shook his head in anger as the voice of his mortal father warped into a deep, manic cackle.

"You are an échec...a failure!"

"No...I..." Nick blinked, "Wait...wait...English...we've been speaking English...not French...how..." Nick frowned in confusion. "You're not real...you're not my father," he breathed quickly, string back. Never in his youth had his family spoken English, not once, but if this was the creature, why was it not speaking French? It had done so before...maybe it was still weak despite Eris' attempts to strengthen it.

At his revelation, Nick stepped back in fear as the shadows growled loudly at him but he could see that the darkness seemed to be dissipating. He saw a glimpse of pale moonlight seep through in the distance and with difficulty, he pushed all thoughts of his father and sister aside. He knew this wasn't really anything to do with his mortal family; his fears were being used against him and he couldn't let it defeat him.

Nick took a deep breath as the cluster of shadows started to surround him, like a snake encircling his limbs it spiralled around him. He could feel the pressure increase around his arms and legs as though the darkness had a tangible presence. However, he couldn't help but notice that the shadowed creature seemed weaker than he remembered; he'd seen through its lies this time and he was standing up to it...perhaps it was weakening.

Nick could see breaks in the shadows where the moonlight was seeping through growing larger and larger and the coal black eyes that stared at him grew more and more angry. He didn't know what to do for the best but he decided that, as the creature now seemed to have a physical body, or at least part of one, that there was now something he could fight. So, he bared his fangs and he bit down into it.

A second later, a loud roar shook the very foundation of Nick's world and he was thrown up into the air like he weighed nothing at all. Then, he felt something force him through a painfully hard surface, a wall, he guessed considering that he believed himself to still be in the house. He scoured the shadows in search of his enemy but it seemed to have disappeared the second he'd bitten it. Nick couldn't even say that he'd tasted blood when he'd done so; it had been a strange sensation. If he had to liken it to anything it would be popping a ballon with a needle; his teeth being the needles and the shadows being the balloon.

Nick groaned as he felt his bones crack as he was tossed mercilessly through the air and into yet another hard surface. Now he was back to fighting something he could see or feel, he wasn't sure of he had a chance after all when, a second later, he felt a sharp pressure push down slowly, right over his heart.

* * *

Just as the glass shattered, Luca fled quickly from the room and out into the street. He could see the house engulfed in darkness, almost like it was trapped in the eye of a tornado. The young vampire knew that his master was the cause of this; he had tried to help LaCroix but he hadn't had enough time to make much of a difference. He sighed as he pushed himself up off the floor, but just as he stood up, he felt a presence sneak up behind him and he suddenly felt very vulnerable.

"Traitor!" Amelia hissed as she threw his across the road.

"Argh!" Luca cried as he hit the concrete painfully. He stared up at Amelia, knowing that the only way out of this was when one of them killed the other, but he didn't want to fight her. She was his sister and they'd always looked out for one another, they'd protected each other from their masters' rage and he'd helped her through her blood lust. But she'd always been easily led, and Eris had more of a hold on her than he did. Amelia hadn't had the time to develop thoughts of her own, and all she had ever been was Eris' puppet...just as he had been. It only made him pity his poor sister all the more.

But, he'd chosen his side, and now he'd have to pay the price; Luca flew up and he rushed straight at Amelia. Because she was so young, Amelia knew little about fighting and her only constant was her feral rage as she swiped and hissed at him.

For several minutes they tossed each other around and they danced around in a blur of red eyes and shining fangs. But it was clear that Luca was stronger and in a split second in which Amelia left herself unguarded, he knocked her down and wrapped his strong hands around her slim neck.

"Eris will kill you," she growled at him.

"Maybe," he said, tightening his hands round her neck, "But not before I see this put right," he finished. With that said, he snapped her neck without mercy, then he bit her neck and drained her of every last drop of blood.

When he was finished he looked back up to the house and the wind had begun to pick up around it adding to the tornado effect, and practically acting as a beacon to every other vampire in the city. Luca knew Eris had wanted her planned victory over LaCroix to be public, but if this kept going it would attract mortal attention as well.

"They will all be killed for this!" Luca suddenly hear another voice speak and he whipped around in search of the person.

"Who are you?" he demanded, and he saw two vampires standing there, watching the house.

"Foolish child," the first one merely scoffed at him and then the nameless vampire looked out into the street with a hiss, baring his long fangs. "Foolish children," he corrected himself and Luca frowned in confusion.

He could sense, and see, a large number of vampires approaching the area and he weighed the option of simply flying away and hiding, because this was going to get nasty. A huge hoard of angry vampires was soon gathered in the street, all seemed intent on driving LaCroix out of town.

"It's LaCroix's fault!" someone yelled, and many of the other vampires seemed to agree with them.

Luca half ran and half flew out of the shadows to stand before the mass of enraged and confused vampires of London, then with a purposeful gaze and with a calm voice, which belied none of his deep rooted fear, he spoke up.

"Before any of you act, you need to know this; Eris is responsible for the deaths of hundreds...if not thousands of vampires. She used them as nothing more than food for that...that thing," he said pointing at the shadows circling the house, "...Surely you can't follow such a person!"

"But this all started when the Roman came here!"

"Because Eris was jealous of him!" Luca shouted back, "She didn't want to lose her territory."

"You're lying!" a vampire challenged.

"Why would I lie?"

"It's a trick..."

"It's the truth," Luca replied.

"What if she decides to kill us all as food?!" one of the crowd yelled.

"Then we'll kill her!" another yelled.

"And that monster!" screamed another vampire, and there was a cry of support that spread throughout the crowd.

Then, after less than a split second, the mass of vampires grew increasingly more angry as the minutes ticked by and Luca was very afraid. He had no idea what was going to happen. If the community worked itself up into a frenzy and attacked, then it would certainly draw mortal attention and then they'd all be in trouble.

* * *

"Nicholas!" LaCroix yelled as he flew through the darkness. He had no idea where he was now, but his only concern was for Nick; he wasn't afraid of Eris and her tricks.

"Hello, LaCroix," he heard a familiar voice chuckle and he stopped flying in less than a second.

"Your tricks don't work on me," he smirked, "Is this your attempt at a more direct approach?" LaCroix asked, but Eris only smiled, appearing from the shadows, she walked over to him. "Your child betrayed you," he gloated, "Luca told me everything," he said and she glared at him.

"Luca is, and always has been a fool," she hissed, her serene countenance gone.

"But he's not your fool anymore," LaCroix chuckled back, which prompted a deeper hiss from Eris. "I wonder how long it will take for your daughter to turn on you," he smiled, "You just can't teach children to understand loyalty these days."

"And of course, your Nicholas would know all about that."

"Nicholas always returns to me; over 600 years of his stubbornness and yet each time he has returned. He understands loyalty," LaCroix said, even though he didn't necessarily believe it. He knew that Nick did not feel much, if any loyalty towards him as a master, but it was true that over the years after falling astray, Nick always found his way back.

"He is headstrong and foolish," she scoffed, "And I swear to you, LaCroix, before the night is done, you will watch your precious son die...right before you join him in hell," Eris smiled and LaCroix hissed menacingly at her.

His red eyes held her gaze with a hatred so deep, he was practically seeing red; he wanted to tear out her throat and watch as all her foul blood stained the floor. Threatening him was all well and good, but threatening Nicholas! It was suicide to threaten Nicholas in his presence and LaCroix vowed that he would make her pay dearly - he would no longer play by Nicholas' rule of 'no killing'. It was time for Eris to die.

The two vampires flew sat each other in a flurry of fangs, furious hisses and snarls as they tore at each other, both aiming for the kill. While LaCroix was stronger, Eris was perhaps a second faster because she was lighter than him so they continued to dance their lethal tango around and around in the shadows.

During their fight LaCroix noticed Eris begin to smile and laugh, lightly at first and then increasing to hysteria as they attacked and dogged each other. At first he thought she viewed the whole thing as a game, which was a concept he could understand as a solider, and then he stared to question her sanity when she showed no sighs of stopping her laughter.

It was clear that something had her very distracted because she was slowly losing their fight, and when LaCroix twisted her arm with enough force to break the bone she seemed to snap out of it. But she didn't scream. Instead she jumped back and regarded him with a curious expression.

"Don't you realise you've lost, LaCroix?" she asked and he scoffed in the shadows.

"You're insane," he hissed.

"And you, are history," Eris replied and she lifted a hand to the darkness.

Then, the shadows disappeared quickly, revealing the living room of his house which had a shattered window, broken furniture and walls which had been seemingly smashed through. "As is your son," Eris spoke again and for a moment, LaCroix wondered what she was talking about. But he soon found out.

Nick was lying with a stake pushed into his chest with blood seeping out and he had his hands wrapped around it, trying to stop it from piercing his body any further. Holding the stake was a shadow in the semblance of a body with little detail but with eyes as sharp as its weapon.

"This is my victory over you," Eris said with a smile, "But don't worry, I promised you would follow him soon after, and I meant it."

LaCroix hissed and went to attack her but as soon as he did he heard Nick cry out and the older vampire paused in his movements. "You see; I am better than you. You are a failure, LaCroix. In war, if one has a weakness it means one loses...but of course you know that, General, so consider this your defeat," she laughed.

Nick tightened his hold around the stake but it didn't make much difference; the skin above his heart was already broken and bleeding and it was sapping his remaining strength. "Say good bye to your son," Eris smirked at him, and before LaCroix could even act, Nick was pushed aside, away from the stake.

In his place stood Luca, who was instantly impaled on said stake.

LaCroix watched as surprise played out on Eris' face as the stake pierced Luca's chest, protruding from his back covered in blood. The old General himself was reeling from the surprise; he'd been so angered at Eris using Nick as a weapon against him that he hadn't noticed Luca approach. But he supposed that this was one way of proving that the child had been telling the truth about betraying Eris.


	13. Ragnarök and EPILOGUE

**CHAPTER 12: Ragnarök + EPILOGUE**

* * *

LaCroix watched, recovering from his moment of catatonic stillness, as Luca fell to the ground with the makeshift stake embedded in his chest. The thought that it could have been Nicholas' blood he was seeing, seeing away and coating the floor, that fact that Eris had meant for it to be Nicholas', fuelled a furious anger deep within him. The General was seeing red as he narrowed his eyes at her; he couldn't remember feeling such strong hatred in at least a century. Eris had threatened not only his own life but that of his son and taunted him directly with his son's life; the life he'd put so much effort into over the years.

"You...you foolish child!" Eris screamed, "You have ruined everything!" she yelled horsely as she flew over to her dying child and lifted him from the floor by gripping the stake which was protruding from the front of his torso.

The furious vampiress seemed completely oblivious now to the ailing Nick and the seething LaCroix, all her attention was focused on her wayward child, and how much she could make him suffer before he died. She slammed him back onto the floor with an ear shattering 'crack' as she broke his bones without mercy.

"Argh! I...Amelia's dead...I killed her..." Luca managed to whisper through the haze of his blurring vision. "...The community want you dead. You've lost, Eris," he finished.

"But so have you," she said to a him a second later with a snarl and she twisted the stake harshly, finally finishing him off for good. As Luca breathed his last painful breath, Eris let out a blood curdling cry of frustration and she kicked the body of the lover turned fledgling who had once cared for her so deeply.

She raised her eyes to regard LaCroix and then she turned to Nick, who was still lying across the floor, with an anger so consuming he could feel it radiating from her. "And now for your son," she grinned and instantly flew toward him.

Nick had little strength left to even raise an arm in front of his head in a useless defence, let alone fight her again, but before she could strike, LaCroix rushed to meet her and he threw her off course, protecting Nick from her attack. He breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief for himself and concern for LaCroix; he would be of next to no use in a fight now and LaCroix had certainly seen better days...But then so had Luca.

Nick turned his head to stare piteously at the vampire who had saved his life, the vampire who was now most certainly dying.

"...Use light..." the younger vampire hissed quietly, with his last breath.

"Light?" Nick repeated a second before Luca's eyes closed for the last time.

However, the crusader didn't have the time to ponder the words before he heard a loud crash followed and punctuated by grunts and cries of anger and hatred from the vicious fight not three meters away from him. Nick knew he had to move, if he stayed where he was he'd end up getting drawing into the fight and a single distraction could affect the outcome. He could cause LaCroix's death if he wasn't careful.

Nick pushed himself up off the floor as gently as he could and he stumbled through the rubble of the house, searching frantically for the one thing which had a chance of saving them. It was a long shot at best, but it wasn't as though he and any other options.

Perhaps Luca was right; with the similarities of Eris' creature to vampires, it was clear that it too detested the light out of necessity; it couldn't go into the light. Therefore, they're only chance of defeating it lay not with brute force, but with light. Unfortunately sunrise was hours away and it would destroy both him and LaCroix in the process. So, he'd have to make something equally bright in the middle of the night. And how could he do that? Simple, with the box of matches kept in the room for lighting the candles. If only he could find it beneath the chaos.

It didn't help that he could hear every sound of his master's continuing fight with Eris and her pet. He wanted to help LaCroix; the basic instincts of a fledgling to his master was to protect said master even at the cost of ones life, but the same was said for the reverse. But Nick and LaCroix's relationship was a far cry from such a textbook example, they were both able to override such primitive traits, and so, Nick stayed away from the fight. For now.

It didn't help his search for the match box, of course, that his vision was blurry and his senses dimming. He had little perspective of up or down, left or right, and the room was in such disarray his hindering faculties only made him snarl weakly in frustration.

He rifled through the debris and tossed aside the battered furniture in search of the one small oak table, with a single drawer which held the matches. Nick didn't want to burn the house down, but if it meant finally being free of Eris, then it was, Nick supposed, a fair enough trade if it happened.

To his left, he saw LaCroix throw Eris across the room and she hissed as a particularly sharp looking piece of broken furniture pierced her right forearm completely. She simply tore it out and flew straight back at the General and the fast flurry of fighting ensued once more.

Nick, increasingly frustrated by his inability to aid his master, renewed his search and, with luck, he found the remains of the old table, with the box lying haphazardly within the remnants of the drawer. Now that he held the box he wondered what exactly he was going to do. He couldn't exactly just sit there hurling matches at Eris or her pet, could he? The very notion made him snort quietly to himself, but he quickly felt terrible.

LaCroix was being attacked on two fronts and he still didn't know what to do, he was hardly helping the Roman by sitting there. With a deep breath, Nick turned back to the old, broken table and snapped one of the legs from the base, he then struck at the wall and scraped it across the floor to make the edge as pointed as possible.

Fortunately for him, its attention was focused solely on LaCroix, so as Nick stood up as best he could and stalked across the room, he moved largely unnoticed until he was finally seen by it.

He quickly lit the wood on fire, and pushed it, with as much force as he could muster towards the shadow in front of him. But instead of alighting on the creature at which he'd aimed, it seemed to fly straight through it, landing instead, in the centre of Eris, torso not half a second later. The cold hearted vampiress let out a roar of indignation which swiftly morphed into howls of agony.

Nick had seen many people die this way, not only vampires, but oftentimes, mortals as well. It was a cruel death, but a dark voice in his mind whispered that it was a fitting death; a cruel death for an even crueler woman. He wanted to turn away but he forced himself to watch as the fire consumed and spread to devour Eris. Her red eyes, while pain filled, were mostly radiating a deep set hatred towards LaCroix, but the General easily met her gaze.

LaCroix was littered with small scrapes and coated with a thin layer of dust but he had no serious injuries. He too watched, and they followed as Eris flew out of the building, fell onto the street, and before the eyes of the entirety of the London vampire community, she was at last incinerated by the flames.

A second later, there was another cry from inside the house, it was wild and genderless, filled with fury and darkness. Nick saw the two Enforcers disappear into the building, and then reemerge not long after, standing before him and LaCroix.

"It is finished," one of them said eerily before they both vanished into the night.

The crowd had watched with baited breath as Eris had died and the flames still refused to give up what was left of her body. But, when LaCroix turned his gaze on them, they shifted nervously, like misbehaving school children, and they dispersed quickly enough leaving only the General and his son, with the charred body.

"Where are you going? We can't just leave...that here," Nick said.

"What would you like me to do about it?" LaCroix replied, "By the time the sun rises there won't be anything left."

"What if someone sees it before the sun is up?"

"Unlikely," the General scoffed, "That...woman...has caused me enough trouble, I refuse to be hindered by her even after she's dead," he explained and walked back to the house. Luckily for them, from the outside , the house looked fine, it was the inside that needed work.

Nick could easily understand what his master meant, but it would hardly do them any favours with the Enforcers if they let a mortal discover the burning body of a dead vampire. He sighed deeply before removing his jacket and moving to make a start on fanning out the flames as he heard LaCroix's footsteps growing ever fainter. It didn't help that, once burning, a vampires body was highly flammable and likely to burn for several hours if left to nature, but eventually the flames gave up.

He was already exhausted and so much muscle movement certainly hadn't aided in his recovery in the least, but there was nothing he could do. LaCroix wasn't going to help him and it was too much of a risk to leave the body on the road. With few options and little patience left, Nick moved the body and hid it loosely beneath a cluster of tress, bushes and fallen leaves where it would catch the morning sun to be incinerated. He didn't like the fact that he was being so clinical about taking and disposing of a life like this, but it wasn't an innocent life. Eris had taken the lives of hundreds, if not thousands and she had got what she deserved. He shouldn't feel any guilt at all, should he? No, he shouldn't.

It wasn't long before he returned to the house and started once more at the mess of the ground floor, but he was too tired to care overly much. LaCroix had already drawn the thick curtains and Nick noticed the instant lack of Luca's body; evidently his master had dealt with it, and now he was presumably either eating or sleeping. Nick had the same idea, and he moved through into the kitchen, on unsteady legs until he reached the fridge.

LaCroix was already sat at the table with a bottle and a glass of his own with another glass filled to the brim, so Nick altered his course and took a sweat beside the older vampire.

"Thanks for your help out there," he said sarcastically as he raised his glass to drink.

"I saved your life today - again, and all you give me is sarcasm - again, won't you ever change?" LaCroix lamented.

Nick, despite his lethargy, had a number of remarks prepared but he realised that his master was in fact, quite correct. "You're right..." he sighed, "You're right, I'm sorry. I just...I didn't want someone to find...it...and get us more trouble with..you know..."

"I know, but it's more than she deserved, one might construe it as a sign of respect," LaCroix sneered,

"Well you know it wasn't."

"Yes," the General said, sipping his drink. "There isn't going to be a problem because of this, is there?"

"What? What d'you mean?"

"Your oh so mortal trait of guilt, Nicholas, which you seem so fond of. You did take a life, am I to expect another long brooding recovery time?"

Nick breathed angrily at LaCroix's flippant tone and easy dismissal of life regardless of who it was, but wasn't killing I'm self defence different? He'd killed Eris to save his and LaCroix's life, and though it pained him to say it, he'd do it again if the person was as evil as Eris had been.

"I'm fine," Nick replied quickly and drained the glass of its contents.

"Good. Now, I for one, have had more than enough excitement for one night," LaCroix said, standing up and picking up the bottle, he left the room.

Nick stared at the empty glass in his hand, and after a minute of silence, he retrieved another bottle from the fridge and left for his own room.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

"...I had hoped we'd be seeing you again, Mr LaCroix," smiled Superintendent Linda Mason. "But, I should tell you, you're already a celebrity around here, I'd expect a lot of questioning if you're sure about working here."

"Nothing I can't handle," Nick smiled once more. Over the past hour or so he'd been in deep conversation with Linda Mason. She was an intelligent woman and she knew as much about crime and the solving of it as anyone Nick had ever met. He was sat opposite her in her large, well decorated office overlooking the city and she sat with an equal smile on her face.

"I'm sure," the Superintendent nodded. "Strictly speaking, I shouldn't be doing this interview, I don't do interviews, they say I'm likely to pick favourites and affect the workplace, but I insisted on doing this one."

"Why?"

"Well, after what you did I figure you're either the dumbest man on the planet, or one of the bravest. Either way I knew it'd be an interesting interview."

"I..."

"My Inspector says you walked right into a building, through the front door that she swears she saw locked and bolted, cool as ice and talk back to the men holding you at gun point..."

"Well, I wouldn't..."

"I pulled your file, Nick 'Knight', and I called your boss," she said, "Your captain Reese was sorry to see you leave you know, said you left real quick without any explanation, right after your second partner...died."

"How did you..."

"I'm not prying, and unless you're planning on telling me, I won't ask about why you changed your name. But if you're not ready to work again just tell me. I think you could be an asset here, but only if you can deal with this again."

"I can," Nick replied.

"And I'm obligated to forewarn you; things are quite different here than they are in Toronto."

"I don't doubt it."

"And you're still sure about this?"

"Yes," Nick nodded.

"Well then, welcome aboard Detective. And just to be sure, if there's ever any trouble because of you, this last part of the conversation never happened. Understand?"

"Completely."

* * *

A.N. Well, there you have it. Finally finished. I'd like to give a big, big think you to everyone who reviewed, and since most of you don't have an account I couldn't PM you all to tell you just how much I appreciated your reviews.


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